I was gonna talk about my progress with mental health but it devolved into talking about coffee mugs

I always used to gaslight myself about my mental health. Every failure to adhere to or understand the many unspoken rules of socializing, conversation etiquette, and general just not understanding what seems to come naturally to others in terms of interacting with people I would tell myself this; "I don't have autism/adhd, I'm hyperbolizing the effects trauma had on me, trying to get a diagnosis for any of those things is pointless and will only reveal that I'm a dumdum idiot asshole that can't handle life" or something along those lines. Now that I live in Finland with my husband, I am able to pursue a diagnosis much easier than I would in America, at least financially. My outlook on my own mental health has completely changed in the past week during one conversation I had with a doctor where during it I was like "oh. Yeah. Maybe there is something there."

She asked me where my anxieties come from, and if I have any specific routines, so I brought up something I talked to my husband with a few days prior: My System of Mugs. Instead of being defensive and downplaying it, I allowed myself to be real.

So I really like mugs. Like, a lot. If something that can be eaten from a bowl can fit in a mug, I will opt for a mug like 95% of the time. I mean that's fine right? I'm sure lots of people prefer a big ol' mug of oatmeal, or soup as opposed to a handle-less bowl, especially if you can eat whatever it is without a spoon. I could go on, but you get it. Anyway, that wasn't my "oh. wait." moment. That happened after the 10 minute conversation about how I have a specific mug assigned to one type of drink and very specific reasons as to why they have been assigned that drink. I'm honestly sitting here getting excited by the fact that I get to explain in full detail the purpose of my mugs... I'm so fucking happy there's no character limit.

Coffee Mug - This one is the second biggest in terms of how much liquid it holds. It is also the sturdiest, which is important cause I use it daily and I'm kinda clumsy and drop stuff sometimes. It's black, stout, and and has "Boss Daddy" on it in white text above a crown, which is super funny to me because it's absolutely not meant to be seen as a vague daddy kink thing but totally sounds like it is. It was sold alongside a set for every role of the typical family unit; "Most beautiful Mom" "Smartest Daughter" "Son exist" and whatever, but whoever designed them might not see it beyond being a mug for dad. The idea that there's a possibility that an esl person designed it with entirely pure intentions but people with brain rot like me are ruining it gives the goblin in my brain a hearty but sensible chuckle. It also fits into my clamp-on desk cupholder the best out of all the mugs.

Soda Mug - This one is an officially licensed DooM mug. Other than the fact that I've loved the DooM series since I was old enough to comprehend and play video games, it has nothing going for it. It's just the games title over a landscape of hell printed on a standard white porcelain mug. While I love DooM, the sentimentality isn't strong enough to put anything other than soda in it. Bland corporate product filled with what is essentially highly addictive poisonous sugar elixir seems incredibly fitting. Also, when we get fast food and the mug is empty, I fit the cup into the mug and drink it that way. It prevents me from having to waste a coaster on it.

Soup/cereal/oatmeal/food mug - Definitely the biggest one. It's mint green and has a description of my astrological sign (Taurus) on it in Finnish. It was a gift from my mother in law, and while I'm not way into astrology I do think its fun and harmless. Also it reminds me of my aunt who, when I was a babby, paid someone to read my astrological map thingy and type up a summary of what she predicted my life path would be in the worst formatting and font combo I've ever seen. I'm a grand cross apparently, which I always thought was cool cause Grand Cross is a special move in Castlevania that some of the Belmonts know. Anyway, it's got high sentimental value, so eating stuff from it is comfy. It's the perfect size to use a spoon unencumbered if needed, but also not so big as to be clumsy to drink from.

Juice Mug - This is one of 2 Moomin mugs I have, and it has Little Myy's older sister on it, and another character I'm unfamiliar with. They're in a flowery meadow in what looks like spring, and the colors stand out without being too vibrant so it's pretty chill. It's perfect for juice for this reason. Typically I don't get super sweet juices, opting more for the naturally sweet juices without tons of added sugars, or very tart cranberry. I know cranberry stands out for being so tart, and can be super harsh sometimes, but I love it and I feel like it fits the Moomin vibe so it can share the same mug as orange and other berry juices.

Tea Mug - In contrast to the warm and playful vibe of the previously mentioned Moomin mug, the scene depicted on this one is much more somber. It depicts the Moomin family gathered around the dinner table at night in black and white. They aren't having dinner and it's dark out, so I assume this is the middle of winter when they wake up and eat pine needles and jam then go back to hibernating. To me the scene is the perfect vibe for tea, since I rarely drink tea during the day/summer time. Before this mug I used "guest mugs" for tea, since my other mugs already had roles assigned to them and I didn't want to mix and match. Even thinking about it now makes me anxious. So glad Alex got me this one.

Rando Mug - This mug is weird. It filled the roles of all the previous mugs until I found ones that fit better for their respective purposes. I now use this one when trying new drinks whether they're soft or hard drinks. It doesn't see much action, but I still love it. It was the first mug I got when I moved to Finland so it has a lot of sentimental value to it, and the lore behind it is hilarious to me in a way that I cannot articulate properly, but will try anyway. Alex and I went to Helsinki to a summer marketplace where people could set up and sell whatever food they grew, hunted, or prepared, as well as any trinkets or clothing they made. I came across a booth selling different souvenir-tier doodads, and the dude running it caught me eying the mugs. He told us he was from Estonia, and that he designed the mugs himself. What he meant by that is he found clipart and put it on a mug and is now selling it to people. The one that stood out the most to me was a standard white mug that said "Wild Finland" with pine trees where the i's should be, and it was covered in various Finnish wildlife. The best part of this mug is that each animal is a different style of clipart/google image, and if you look close enough you can see the jagged edges where he used the magic wand tool to get rid of the background, but didn't feather it or clean it up with a soft eraser. I know I said the mug was hilarious to me, but it doesn't come from a place of malice. The dude was in his fifties, probably just learned photoshop and was super proud of it and wanted to share his accomplishment with everyone. That earnestness is what makes it so special, and to me the humor comes from how much of a boomer dad move that is, and how no matter the culture it seems to be universal. I hold that mug in higher respect and artistic esteem than I do the DooM mug, because there was genuine pride and passion put into it despite it's amateurishness and simplicity. I unironically mean this when I say it is a true work of art. I know I invented a bunch of lore about the guy and he could have just as easily been a Gruncle Stan, but either way I wanted to support him and now I have funny animal mug.

Big Blank Mug - It was too big to be called a mug. Massive, thick, and heavy, and far too plain. Indeed, it was a head of raw porcelain. That being said, it's the perfect canvas to be gay and draw cute stuff on it with my husband. We haven't drawn on it in a while, might run it through the dishwasher and draw something new on it. I used to use this mug when I was depressed and drank a full pots worth of coffee a day from it. It took a lot to open up and ask my husband to draw on it with me, as in a previous relationship when I had a similar idea it was shot down and I was made fun of for it. But this isn't about terrible ex lore, this is about mug lore which is honestly more fulfilling and fun. I don't drink out of it anymore since I heavily cut back on coffee since then, but it has the most sentimental value of all the mugs and is definitely the gayest.

Guest Mugs - I don't usually use these mugs unless we make smoothies because I don't have a dedicated smoothie mug... yet. They were a gift from a friend of ours, they're really nice mugs. Whenever I make coffee for guests, I serve it in these. I really these mugs, and they were from a friend of ours that's been in Alex's life for a long time, so despite me not using them often I still appreciate them a lot.

Honorable mention goes to the beer mugs we drink water out of. They aren't technically coffee mugs, and we both use them for water exclusively. Stay hydrated.

I almost forgot why I was writing this and had to change the title of this post to reflect that. It should also be noted that I didn't get these mugs with the sole purpose of creating a mug system. It all just kind of happened. Anyway the doctor then asked me how I would feel if the system of mugs was disrupted or if someone else used them. This never comes up because luckily Alex doesn't like drinking from mugs all that often unless it's chocolate milk or smoothies, in which case he will use the guest mugs. He did ask me what would happen if he put juice in my coffee mug and I immediately got anxious and slightly frazzled at the thought. I realized the one time this was an issue was the only time I ever had to temporarily relinquish my main boss daddy coffee mug to my mother in law who was helping us move. At first I tried not thinking about the fact that she put milk in her coffee, which typically until now the only thing that I every put in that mug was coffee and the occasional scoop of honey, but she kept bringing up the fact that she was using MY mug. I kept trying to focus on packing to get through the uneasiness, but every once in a while she would chime in "sorry I'm using your boss daddy mug haha uwu" its fine, please stop bringing it up. Then five minutes later again "I'm using your cup haha sorry" it's FINE please just pack. Then she did it again, over and over. Why the fuck are you bringing it up so much? Just finish the drink so I can rinse it out and not think about how there's more milk in her coffee than coffee and I'm gonna have to rinse it immediately because milk gets crusty and gross if you don't. For whatever reason she took her sweet ass time with it and she just KEPT BRINGING IT UP anyway I forgot the point of this I think the point was I was officially diagnosed with ocd and cptsd and probably have autism and adhd or somethin idk don't touch my mugs.

On the Job pt. 2

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, fuck or die sex pollen (which means there are noncon/dubcon elements), reader is a sex worker, masturbation, face fucking, temperature play, (light) pain play, biting

pairing: todoroki x fem!reader

wc: 3.4k

summary: Super human society has a secret. Aphrodisiac quirks aren’t just the things of porn and fantasy–they’re actually quite common and too often fall into the wrong hands. Heroes, of course, do the best that they can, but when they get hit, they must be taken off the line of duty and someone needs to be able to activate the quirk’s release condition. If they’re single, who might that someone be? Obviously, you.

a/n: Half of me didn’t actually think that I would follow up part one, but I feel a heavy obligation towards my fanfic promises so...this is a weight off my shoulders, lol.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

You’d gotten the call early today.

Not early in the day—truth be told, you’d hardly known what time it was before picking up the phone. No, you got the call early. As in not last minute. The call saying that your client would have to be transported to the agency from on site and they could tell you the details in the meantime.

The call saying you’d better drive to the agency, because you had to service a hero in an hour.

Now, patience wasn’t usually your virtue of choice—actually you didn’t often tend towards virtues in general. Save perhaps for kindness, which you preferred to deal out on your knees or your back, augmented by praise and the generosity of offering all three of your holes for your clients’ needs. But you were happy to cultivate it today, because an early call meant one thing.

You knew who was coming today.

Your pants were already off and you shirt was pushed up over your breasts as you leisurely played with yourself. You’d licked the tips of your fingers and gotten them started with slow passes over your clit, the other hand pinching your nipple, just a little too hard in prep for a hero who’d probably give it to you rough.

Maybe your reaction wasn’t right. Maybe it wasn’t kind of you to be so relaxed—relaxed and eager, actually—over the news that it was possible that Pro Hero Shouto would die. That he’d been hit with the particularly high stakes brand of aphrodisiac quirk and that if you didn’t trigger the release condition—that was: hot and heavy sex—his heart may very well stop or whatever happened on the other side of these troublesome quirks.

You wouldn’t know. After all, you hadn’t lost a single client yet.

So perhaps that was cold of you. Perhaps it would be more virtuous for you to be worried about him, fretting on the other side of the door with the guards over his ETA.

Then again, as stated: you’d never been one for virtue. Sin was much more fun. And surely it was better to make sure that whenever Shouto did show up, you had a wet pussy that he could waste none of his precious time sinking his cock into.

You groaned at the thought, dipping two fingers from your clit into your cunt and scissoring them. Your head lolled back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as you pressed against that front wall the flats of your fingertips, feeling that soppy wetness covering you and beginning to drip down your knuckles.

Yeah, you were ready for him.

In fact, you’d been waiting for Shouto longer than just today. After nabbing the number two pro hero, Dynamight, a few months back, you’d gone ahead and debased yourself  further—how much further was there to go, though, really?—by creating a list of your dream clients. You’d written Dynamight just to check him off, the memory of him cumming in you raw and licking you clean still hot between your thighs.

Your near encyclopedic knowledge of heroes—naturally, you took a healthy interest in your job—had then led you to daydream about Dynamight’s whole hero cohort. You added Red Riot to the list, dreaming of his abs, imagining riding them, teasing sweet whines out of him before backing up and dropping yourself on his cock. You thought of Deku, what it would mean for your ego to nab the number one hero, the flash of jealousy that would rise on his face when you let it slip that you’d already fucked his biggest rival, fucked his goddamn brains out and yours to boot.

Of course, you couldn’t do that. NDAs, after all. You’d already signed away your rights to mentioning anything about what happened to or with Shouto today. Still, you could dream.

Then, of course, your thinking had truly devolved, and you’d thought about the boys being paired up, fighting a villain with an unknown quirk only to be hit by the ever common, ever unknown—thanks to you and your prudence; oops, there was another virtue—aphrodisiac quirk and having to take care of both of them. Spit-roassting, Eiffel Tower, a goddamn daisy chain—anything. Long story short, you’d ended up cumming twice more on your hands before the evening was done.

But also on that list, was Shouto Todoroki.

Who, if you weren’t mistaken, was now on the other side of the door.

After all, these walls weren’t soundproof. It provided quite the show for the lucky guards on the other side, but hey, if you needed to scream for help, they had to be there. By the same coin, you could hear the shuffling on the other side, the footsteps approaching, and the telltale sound of the lock on the door being activated. You pressed your legs together, resting them to the side, hiding your glistening pussy artfully with your legs for the sake of modesty. Everyone knew what was happening here, but you didn’t need to send Shouto’s poor handler back blushing to their colleagues.

Shouto was ushered into the room and, without eye contact, someone yelled to you, “Ready, ma’am?”

“Ready!” you called back, and the door was closed, leaving you alone with the number three hero.

Without modesty, your legs fell open, revealing the mess you’d already made of yourself to Shouto. You dipped the fingers you’d been using into your mouth, and cleaned them dutifully. After all Shouto was still wearing his costume, and you did so hate the agency having to send those to the cleaners with your fluids all over them.

“Hey, bud,” you purred, running a hand slowly up one thigh. “I heard you have a problem.”

Pro Hero Shouto was known for his stoic personality. News conferences and interviews he participated in always consisted of a slow, even tone, and little beyond cold facts. There was something pleasantly mysterious about that, sure, but it didn’t exactly hint that he’d be quick to jump into bed. Sexy voice, though.

But whatever quirk he’d been hit with must have been strong, because the next thing you knew, the index finger from his left hand was tracing down the front of his uniform, cleanly burning a line straight to his already tented crotch. His accessories had already been taken off—his belt, gloves, shoes, even the clasp at his neck had been undone earlier. So there was nothing in his way as he pulled either side of his scorched uniform to the side and off his arms as he approached the bed.

“All business, huh?” you asked, pushing yourself up off your pillows by your forearms, watching as Shouto climbed onto the bed on his knees, finally pulling his jumpsuit down past his crotch.

You’d taken a bet with yourself on the color of his pubes—it’s not like you’d be losing either way if you got to see them. They turned out to be dual-colored, but not the stark red and white of his hair. No, they were more neutral in tone, like yours. Unlike yours, they were nested above a heavy cock, already shining with precum—or actual cum, you didn’t know—at the head.

Shouto didn’t reply to your comment, and you weren’t surprised. Some people went totally nonverbal when hit by sex pollen quirks, and that was fine. You’d rather someone button their lip than ruin the mood by saying something off, after all. All business was fine by you—this was your job, after all. And no matter the size of his mouth, his cock was just fucking right.

You naturally lowered your legs as Shouto began kneeing over you, cock in hand. Your brain only just managed to catch up to what was going on when his legs stopped on either side of your ribs, his leaking cockhead crossing your eyes before you. Automatically, your jaw dropped open, and Shouto’s cock smeared pre against your cheek and the corner of your mouth before sinking deep into your mouth, drawing a first obscene moan out of him.

A humming moan fell out of you too, barely able to take in the taste of Shouto’s cock before it was pressing against the back of your throat, springing tears to your eyes automatically. Something about aphrodisiac quirks so often seemed to play with the taste of these heroes’ cum. No longer was it bitter, but just heady, salty, and more pleasant than it should have been as it coated your tongue and throat. You adored it, and purposefully relaxed your muscles so that you could take more of him in.

Shouto didn’t hold back. With barely half a breath in your lungs, Shouto was thrusting deep in the back of your throat so that your spit dripped from your mouth and smacked wetly between his balls and your chin. You blinked tears out of your eyes and looked up at him to find blown pupils staring back at you, gaze hot and pointed.

There was light behind those eyes. Whatever Shouto was right now, it wasn’t unthinking, not pure instinct. No, the way he was fucking your throat, the way his eyes had you pinned—it was intentional.

Abruptly, Shouto pulled out, a think strand of spit snapping from his dick, cold on your tongue as you panted from the rough treatment. You held your mouth open, expecting him to shove back in once you’d caught your breath, but Shouto seemed to have other plans. He moved down your body, soaked cock again in his palm, and his eyes now set on your pussy. You reached for one of the condoms you’d set out next to you, and held it in front of him.

“Hate to sound like an after-school special, but no glove…”

Shouto paused, eyeing you for just a moment before taking the square and making quick work of it, rolling it over himself.

Then, abruptly, he put a hand on your cheek, drawing your eyes back up to his. “Thank you for your hard work. It does not go unappreciated.”

“What the—”

You were left agog at his statement, wholly unprepared as he swiftly took each of your thighs in one hand, spread them, and plunged in you to the hilt. You gasped high in your chest, your throat still tender from being rawed by Shouto’s dick. He leaned over you, sighing with a relief that doubled then halved the size of his chest. His forehead touched yours in a strange moment of intimacy, and, for a moment, you wondered if that was it. Was that all the release condition took? Penetration? Or had he cum and you just hadn’t noticed?

Were you going to be left to tend to yourself with the bullet vibrator in your glove compartment yet again?

Then Shouto leaned back, looked at you again with those sharp eyes, and began smacking into you with abandon.

“Fuck,” you let out as Shouto’s balls, still wet with your spit, left their mark on your ass with every deep thrust he gave you.

Shouto manhandled your thighs, grabbing them firmly in each hand as he reared back fully on his knees again, taking the lower half of your body with him. You reflexively braced with your arms, and soon they were the only part of you still in contact with the bed, along with your upper back and head still resting on the comfortable stack of pillows.

As was often the case, you’d lost control of the situation. You could barely match Shouto’s thrusts on your own as he repeatedly used his upper body strength to bring you to him, and his lower body strength to send his hips right back in return. If you tried to reach him, your fingertips would barely brush his thighs, much less any other part of him. You were totally at his mercy.

You couldn’t help but eyeball his broad biceps, flexed by holding up the weight of most of your body. And aside from the sweat dripping from his forehead—probably quirk-induced—he was showing little to no strain.

He hadn’t always had muscles like this, you were sure. You couldn’t help but remember pundits sounding off on Shouto’s overreliance on his quirk over physical strength, or the difference between his body and the massive tank that was his father, Endeavor. They’d shown clips of his body—handsome, always handsome—but either Shouto had done a lot of bulking in the last few years or those newscasters had been particularly unkind. Likely both. Because now, drops of sweat were trickling from his body in rivulets; there were no straight paths to go down. A bulging muscle here to dip around, the crease from a flexed ab there to pool in. You were hypnotized by his form, even the thighs straining under the part of his uniform that he hadn’t bothered to burn off.

Your mind was so enraptured by thoughts of Shouto’s body that the sensations happening to yours crept up on you. All at once, you realized that your thighs were burning. Actually, one was burning, and the other was freezing cold, both just under his palms and branching up the fingers currently painting five bruises into each muscle.

A gasp flew out of your mouth and your eyes rolled back as your thighs suddenly began quaking unbidden. Shouto looked down at you, his expression easy save for those passionate eyes, little huffs escaping his slack jaw. “Too much?” he asked.

Your head shook side to side, a vehement no as Shouto dug his fingers even deeper into your flesh, bringing dull throbs of pain so close to where every thrust brought about sharp flashes of pleasure. It felt like a betrayal when he just then loosened his grip to slide his hands up to your knees and hook them over his shoulder. Then those hands, right at the brink of freezing and searing pressed into the meat of your ass as he brought your hips to his with redoubled force.

That first new thrust sent Shouto’s head turning to the side, digging a painful bite into the fleshy part of your calf, making you cry out. A moment later, he let go, his tongue passing over the teeth marks like a salve over a wound.

All the dueling sensations had you close. You’d been teasing yourself for so long before Shouto had even shown up and now he was fucking into you like…well, like his life depended on it.

God, was it wrong to love fuck or die quirks?

You were quick to take a hand and put it back on your aching clit, despite the strain it put on your neck and upper back to lose one arm of support. Part of a good fucking was being folded like a pretzel, and you’d just book a massage appointment tomorrow to deal with it. Surely saving the life of the number three hero was worth a reward.

Shouto’s eyes honed in on your fingers moving rapidly over your clit, and you bet he could feel the twitches of your cunt approaching climax. A hand left your ass and went behind his head to pat your ankles. “Cross them,” he instructed.

Obediently, you crossed your ankles, making your position a bit sturdier as Shouto continued to drive you back onto him with one hand. Then that second hand went to yours, brushing it away with the backs of his knuckles. A surprisingly gentle gesture for the man who was kneading bruises into your ass and biting your leg. Then, with his thumb, he painted one slow, hard, blazing stripe up your clit, and you came instantly.

“Fuck!” you shouted as your back arched in midair, the crown of your head digging into the pillows as your neatly crossed ankles came undone, your thighs shaking and falling from Shouto’s grip. His cock slid out of you as your lower half bounced once on the bed. Before the springs could vault you back, Shouto was on top of you, pressing himself back in your still convulsing cunt.

His thrusts were long, desperate as he breathed into your neck. He mouthed the base of your neck with light bites and suckles—never quite kissing. Your thighs came back up around his hips and his left hand went back to squeezing your thigh. Meanwhile, the right came between your thighs, surprising you as two fingers began prodding at your entrance.

Almost immediately, you could feel the heat of the stretch. Or rather, you would have felt the heat of the stretch, had his fingers not been ice cold against you. You cried out as he curled his fingers forward while his cock kept thrusting straight through you, the hot and cold contrast nearly too much. You wondered how much more intense it would feel if Shouto were unbound by the condom, and you able to bear its full heat.

“Please,” you whimpered as your orgasm began to rise again, too quickly, nearly as sudden as the first one had been, but without all the build up. This one felt like it was going to tear out of you.

Just then, the nips that Shouto had been teasing over your neck went away, and he planted one more good bite on your shoulder as his thrusts became insistent, the fingers petting inside you matched with a cold thumb over your clit. And neither of you could hold on a moment longer.

Shouto groaned low and bone deep in your ear while your voice, still raspy from early, keened in his. Your thighs went tight around his waist and his hand was trapped between you as you both rode out your highs. It took a full minute for your muscles to unwind, and your feet to fall flat to the bed. At that point, Shouto pulled out and rolled over next to you, both of you panting as the sweat dried on your skin.

Shouto pulled the condom off of himself and found a trashcan to toss it into before falling flat on his back again. After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, he opened his mouth. “Thank you for your professionalism.”

You snorted. “You’re welcome,” you managed, keeping your laughter at bay. “That’s not what people usually thank me for.”

“Thank you for saving my life?” Shouto tried again, his gaze shifting over to you.

His eyes were still bright, but his gaze less sharp, obscured by dual-colored bangs falling over it. Suddenly, Shouto looked a great deal more innocent than the man who’d been fucking the life out of you just minutes ago. Perhaps an effect of the quirk wearing off, perhaps the effect of unfettered pleasure meeting relief.

“More common, yes,” you replied, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“You’re very good at what you do,” Shouto said, his eyes going to the spot where he’d bitten your shoulder. He circled it with one finger, brows furrowing. “You’re like a hero.”

“Hah,” you returned, looking up at the ceiling. You weren’t going to let this be the moment in your career that made you blush. “Vixen, the orgasm hero. I don’t think it would meet the commission’s guidelines.”

“Perhaps not,” Shouto said, sitting up and pulling up what remained of his costume, frowning at the spot where he’d torn it. You supposed you needn’t have worried about this costume going to the cleaners; the support team would likely toss it and make a replacement.

“There are clothes you can change into in the closet,” you said, pointing to the near invisible door in the back wall.

Shouto waved you away as he stood up. “This will be fine to make it to the locker room with.”

“Suit yourself,” you said as you pushed yourself up, trying to remember where you’d thrown your leggings before you’d started jerking of, grunting as your spine cracked.

Shouto plucked the leggings from near the foot of the bed and tossed them to you before heading towards the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back and made eye contact with you one last time, the ghost of a smile you’d never seen before on his lips. “Thanks again…Vixen.”

As he closed the door, you could only blame your own impropriety, that utter lack of virtue that you first thought was:

Number two pro hero, Shouto: check.

My Little Omega

This piece was a birthday commission for the lovely @aizawascumslut​ ! Thank you so much and I really hope you enjoy it! I’m so so sorry it was a little bit late, life has b l o w n lately, but I did make it almost 3,000 words for you!

It is NSFT with A/B/O dynamics, and this is my first time taking a crack at any of that (just kidding NSFT is my specialty) but really, I’ve never done A/B/O before so hopefully I didn’t fuck that up too badly.

Shigaraki really wants to make your birthday as memorable as he can and give you a very special gift that only he can give you.

Shigaraki was never good with birthdays.

Growing up, a fuss was never made about his own, and he had very few people in his life he considered important enough to care. He would get the occasional ‘Happy birthday, young Tomura’ from Master, but even that waned as his age progressed. It was just another day to track his progress; how far he’d come and how much further he needed to go.

He knew that people on the outside had a very different idea. It was a day of celebration, where the person of honor had well wishes and last minute presents thrust into their lap, celebrating that they were born and every subsequent year they’ve been alive. The entire thing seemed asinine to him; what’s the point of cheering for your own existence for doing something as basic as simply being alive?

He didn’t understand it. It made no sense, and frankly, he didn’t care about it in the slightest.

At least until he met you.

You were the one person who he was happy was actually born, one of the few he didn’t hate or ignore entirely, and suddenly he began to grasp why others would throw parties and give gifts to the ones they appreciated and loved. Birthdays had meant nothing because the people around him meant nothing, but that wasn’t the case anymore.

Still, lifelong ignorance of the tradition had led him into a rather awkward situation.

He had no idea what to get you for yours.

It was coming up rapidly, and days fell off the calendar with his constant mental mantra of ‘I’ll deal with it later’, despite the fact that he could never come up with anything that he found to be worthy. Naturally, he had thought of the old standbys like flowers, or chocolate or some generic bullshit that the rest of the waking world uses when they’ve run out of original ideas, but it never felt right. His relationship to you was special. It deserved more than some half-assed and unimaginative throwaway token of love. If he was going to go to the trouble of gifting you something, he wanted it to mean something; both to him and to you.

Time drew on and he got precariously close to the deadline before something finally jumped out at him. It wasn’t until the morning of your birthday that he found the perfect gift to celebrate you and your presence in his life. It dawned on him as he was roused from his sleep earlier than normal by your clawing, needy fingers grasping at him, sweat beading slightly on your forehead. You were whimpering, still passed out but clearly in a state of discomfort. If your body language didn’t clue him in, the overwhelming scent that coats both your body and sheets and stirs his cock certainly did.

Your heat.

It was upon you.

Your sleepless eyes open and focus on him with blown out pupils, face crinkling in pain and realization as he drags himself off the bed. He looks at your cutely pathetic expression and hates how much it rouses him. The desire building at the base of his spine is already conflicting with his daily responsibilities. There was so much he had to tend to today, important things he needed to manage, but his every instinct screams at him to curl over you on the bed, press your legs deep into your chest and knot his little Omega until-

Oh.

And just like that, he knew. He knew exactly what he would give you.

Forcing his primal brain to ignore the irresistible scent you’re producing that’s cloying down his nostrils, he gives you a reluctant goodbye, poorly masked with irritation and stress. His tone is harsh and stern as he tells you to quit being so needy and he needs to go, he has stuff to do. He knows you can’t help it, but seeing you in this state is making it even harder for him to leave and focus on anything but breeding you. He needs to be able to focus and maintain his responsibilities and army, but hard doesn’t even begin to describe it when you slip from beneath the bed sheets, slick already coating the inside of your thighs and dampening the front of your sleep shorts. Fuck, he can smell you, perfect and ripe for breeding and remarking.

Still, he can’t let lust cloud his judgment right now, even though as your alpha, it’s deeply wired into his brain to mate and protect you. He knows he’s leaving you alone and vulnerable, possibly open to attack from another alpha despite his mark deeply etched into your neck. Anyone would be stupid to try, knowing he’d rip them apart with his bare hands, but he still hates the fact he has to leave you. It goes against his every instinct, each painful step of his body echoed by a desperate call of his name or the breathless sigh of ‘alpha’, your own submissive and primal needs overtaking your rational brain.

He’ll finish his business, and quickly. He needed to be here with his omega. It was her birthday, after all.

But as the day dragged on, minutes turn into hours and his own skin begins to itch and crawl. His head screaming and demanding that he return to you, muscles twitching in his legs as he almost pushes himself from the chair against his own will. Needless conversations and endless procession of things he could care less for are occupying his attention; attention that should be nowhere but you. He can practically smell you from across the base. Your scent mixed with his, palpable and tangy in the air. It’s distracting. His cock twitches and he can feel his rut coming.

He needs to get out. Now.

He needs to get to you.

Meeting be damned, he leaves mid sentence. No one is foolish enough to question.

Everyone knows the scent of an Alpha yearning for his mate, and even if they didn’t, they certainly knew the smell of an Omega in a fresh heat.

He practically kicks open the door to his apartments, finding you restlessly curled into a newly made nest of his blankets and sheets, burrowing deep into his scent. You’re whimpering and desperate, hunched over from the pain and head swimming with nothing but thoughts of his knot and his pups. Hypersensitive to his pungent smell already, your attentions are turned toward the door even before he manages to enter. Your slick still visible between your quivering thighs, clutching and trembling as you waste no time pleading for him, his name slurred and urgent on your lips.

“Please- Please… Shigaraki- Alpha!”

You crane your neck for him, already branded and scarred where his jagged teeth initially made contact with the muscle. You reek of his own scent entwined with yours, equally familiar and intoxicating. The way you weakly beg for him, hurting in a way that he and he alone can soothe drives him into a frenzy, every muscle twitching, eager to pounce on his pretty little Omega.

“You want me to take you, don’t you?  Needy little bitch in heat.”

He shrugs his coat off onto the floor, overtaken with lust and moving on pure instinct towards you. You can feel it, the raw, dominating scent practically radiating from him. Quickly, you gather onto your hands and knees and push your ass in the air, prostrating yourself before him. Your hips wiggle desperately, and he chuckles at your lack of shame, too blinded by need for him to find any sense of composure.

He likes it when you present yourself for him, all wet and urgent and craving his touch, and right now, there’s nothing you want more. You want him to fill you and make you whole, cum inside you again and again and give you what you need the most.

“You want my knot? Want me to fill you up with my cum and give you my pups?”

An incoherent cry escapes your throat as you practically fall to the floor, limbs scraping along the ground as you try to quell the pain in your body that’s spreading like fire throughout your limbs and becoming more and more unbearable. Tears bead in your eyes and he can tell it’s hurting you even more than he can truly perceive. His rut began less than an hour ago but already it’s building to unimaginable levels.

You’ve been such a good girl; So strong all day. You need him now, and he needs you, and he’s done waiting. All For One himself couldn’t claw him away from you. He’d rather die.

He inhales a deep breath, taking in your overwhelming scent and holding it in his lungs. Had he not marked you, every alpha within miles would be trekking here, crusading to claim you. You had always been so sweet, so overpowering in the saccharine smell that permeated off of you and onto everything around you.  

But you’re his.

His.

And he’ll kill anyone who even fucking dares to get near you. He’ll rip them to shreds and there will be nothing left but a puddle of gruel.

His own animalistic instincts take over, growling from the low of his throat as he threads his fingers through your hair and yanks you backwards.

“Mine. You’re mine.” He nibbles on your exposed throat, teasing you on top of the mark he’s already gifted you. His thick cock prods on your backside and the needy whine that emanates from your throat doesn’t escape him.

“For your birthday, I’m going to fill you with my cum and knot you, make your belly all swollen and perfect. I’m going to fill you with my pups. You want that, don’t you?”

You nod feverishly, unable to muster anything but an incoherent babble as your neck strains in his grip, your clumsy fingers fumbling with the waist of your sodden shorts. They stick to your soiled legs, refusing to slide down with anything but a frustrated yank. He chuckles at your desperation despite the last semblance of self-control he has being discarded with your ruined clothing.

“On your back. Now.”

You whimper at his authoritative voice, unable to disobey the commanding voice of your alpha. He releases your hair long enough for you to quickly flip yourself over and fall to the floor, spreading your legs open for him. Lithe fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants and before long, he’s crawling half of the way on top of you with his boxers pulled down over the thick of his thighs.

“Good girl,” His palm crawls up your legs, stopping just short of where you need it most. Your body twitches and you wail, trying to wiggle into his touch. Slick pools on his hand as he drags the pads along the inside of your thigh, lips slacking slightly as he watches your thigh muscles twitch hungrily at his ministrations. He’s barely even touched you but you’re practically sobbing, tears running down your cheeks as you stammer out his name over and over. 

His cock jumps watching you worm around, body glistening with sweat and need, looking up at him through watery lashes and glazed eyes as if he’s the only thing in the world you’ll ever need. It’s enough to send him over the edge, pushing forward on his knees so he looms over you entirely. 

“You’re going to be a good little omega and take my cock now, right?” He taps your core with his hot, thick length. “You’re going to let me re-mark you and fill your belly with my pups?” “Yes, please-“ You nod enthusiastically, shimmying your lower body to try and entice him. “Please mate me, alpha!”

He aligns with your entrance, using the last bit of his strength to hold off ramming into you before he makes you beg. “My cute little bitch in heat. You want me to breed you? Knot you over and over and make your body take my seed?” “Yes!” He anchors his elbows beneath your knees, pressing your legs up into your chest, finally letting himself sink into you. The slick sound that echoes into your ears is just flat out embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as he fills you up to the hilt. Finally, his chest comes flush with the back of your legs, bottoming out inside you. His lips brush against yours as he pecks you softly at first, but then more and more ravenous and greedy. He hisses between sloppy, open mouthed kisses, muttering and cursing into your own mouth.

“My omega! Mine, mine!” 

He pulls out only to thrust all the way back in, burying himself inside you once more before he begins his brutal rhythm, betraying just how needy he is for you as well. Your body bounces helplessly on his cock as you keen and cling to him for purchase, steadying yourself on his shoulders. 

You think he’s coming to devour you again but his lips find your marked neck, digging his teeth into the brand over and over again as he rocks powerfully into you until you’re certain that you have no scent left of your own. You don’t mind, you don’t care, you’ll stay in this home forever and raise his pups.

“Yours! Only yours!” 

He groans against your neck and withdraws, bringing his head up to you again. Beckoning him closer, you throw your arms around him and tighten your grip around his neck until he’s forehead to forehead with you. He’s drooling slightly, face turning red with exertion as he repeatedly cants his hips against your dripping pussy over and over again. He finds the wherewithal to kiss you, tongue slipping past your lips and exploring your mouth frantically. You can feel him try to say something but between the molding of your mouths and the pleasure sparking and coiling in your abdomen, you can’t make it out. 

Panting and heaving chests collide between the joining of slippery, sweaty bodies and the punishing pistoning of his hips bruises you as he practically fucks you into the floor. The loud wailing of your wanton moans and his animalistic growls echo off the bedroom walls. The slapping of flesh on flesh joins the cacophony and it all comes together to heighten your pleasure and stimulate you even further. Your beloved alpha, he’s going to fill you soon. He’s going to knot you and breed you over and over until you’re mothering his pups. 

“My good- ah- good little omega. You’re going to be such a great mother-“ His staccato thrusts become slightly more erratic, losing their rhythm ever so slightly, and if you could focus between the twitching of your cunt and the blinding orgasm growing in your gut, you could tell he’s getting close. “I-I can’t wait to watch your belly swell. Your tits will grow nice and fat with milk and- fuck!” 

His moans become breathier and higher pitched, heaving them into your ear. Your own release is nearing soon, every nudge of his pelvic bone against your clit taking you higher and higher to the top. Your pussy pulses with his filthy words, toes flexing and your fingers tensing in his hair, urging him forward. 

“Shigaraki, please-!” 

Your eyes meet for a brief second, his heavy scarlet ones staring glassy and blown out into yours. Your back arches off the floor and his teeth clamp down on the rounds of your neck where your mark is once more, sinking deep into the pliant flesh and claiming you a final time before you feel his cock twitch and with a drawn out and uneven howl, he empties himself inside you. 

With the warm sensation of his white, sticky cum filling your womb and his broken and breathless admissions of pleasure, you find yourself pushed over the edge as well. Your walls flutter and contract around him, squeezing and milking him as he scratches at the floor beneath you in a blinding and borderline overstimulated euphoria. Your entire body convulses and shakes beneath him, face contorting and uncontrolled sobs of bliss exhaling from your chest, slowly turning into fractured little wails and gasping.

When you finally come to, he’s releasing your legs from his hold and gently lowering them to the floor, still laying atop you as his knot plugs you and prevents the loads of cum from escaping. His tender finger brushes your cheek, kissing you softly with a few gentle pecks. You can feel your heat subside, if only temporarily, but you know it’s likely not going away. Heats are never so kind, and it’s only a matter of time until he has to leave again. The thought fills you with panic and your heart begins to race.

You look to him as if to say something, but he just presses his lips to yours once more.

“I know, little omega.” One of his large hands comes down to stroke your belly, feeling the pressure from the seed currently plugged deep into your womb while the other keeps stroking your cheek. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s my omega’s birthday, after all, and I want it to be special. I don’t care how long it takes.”

A Treacherous Interrogation

Spoilers for Akechi’s confidant in P5R, along with general P5 spoilers.

---

“Goro Akechi. Ace detective, celebrity... and would-be traitor to the Phantom Thieves. You have information that I want.”

If looks could kill, Akira would have died right then. As things were, however, Akechi could only glare.

Lured into Mementos by the promise of another duel, it had been embarrassingly easy for Akira to trap him. First, he’d been knocked out. Then, he’d been restrained. When he eventually regained consciousness, it was to find himself bound to the wall with coils of rope, red mask nowhere to be found.

“And what makes you think I’ll tell you anything?” he practically snarled.

“You know, I really did like you.”

Akechi froze.

“I was always happy to see you at Leblanc, or spend time with you around the city. That’s why I wanted to believe you were innocent... but I'd just be living in denial at this point, wouldn’t I?” Akira looked remorseful for a few seconds, then seemed to shake it off. “I have my team to think about. I have friends to protect. And so...”

Leaning in, he whispered his next words in Akechi's ear.

“One way or another, I'm going to make you talk.”

A shiver ran down Akechi's spine, both from the threat and Akira’s warm breath. This was accompanied by a stab of fear, though Akechi was quick to suppress it.

“What, are you planning to torture me?” he scoffed. “Harming someone for information is rather low, don't you think?”

A smile that was pure Joker broke out on Akira's face. Akechi didn't like it one bit.

“Torture, yes. Harm, no. I think I've come up with a pretty good compromise.”

And then he was lifting the hem of Akechi’s shirt, pushing it up far enough to expose a few ribs.

“W-What do you think you're doing?!” Akechi protested, a light blush dusting over his cheeks.

“Just getting ready,” Akira smirked, setting his gloves aside.

“Getting ready? What are you even- Ah!” 

Akechi flinched at the first brush of fingers against his skin, the close contact feeling strangely intimate. However, while the motion might’ve been tender on its own, the tingling of his nerves told a different story. Slowly, the sensation radiated outwards, commanding all of his attention. It took roughly a minute for his body to betray him, releasing an uncontrollable flood of giggles.

Akira eagerly welcomed the sound.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” He pinched at Akechi’s ribs. “Who knew the Detective Prince was ticklish?” He dug in a bit, grinning when Akechi squealed. “You like that? It sure sounds like you do! I bet you wish you could move right about now.”

“Fuhuhuck ohohoff!”

“Swearing already? How rude...” He promptly scribbled his nails across Akechi’s stomach.

“GahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAGH!”

“Anyway, enough small talk. Who are you working for?”

And thus the interrogation commenced.

---

Quite some time later, Akira began to wonder if he’d underestimated Akechi’s resilience. Despite being so ticklish (and struggling quite fiercely), the latter didn’t seem any closer to spilling his secrets.

“I’m kind of impressed how long you’ve held out,” Akira admitted aloud. “But if you’re really gonna be this stubborn, then I think it’s time I got serious.”

Taking the opportunity to catch his breath, Akechi’s mind began to race. Though he’d managed to endure the tickling up to that point, he didn’t want to imagine how it could possibly get worse.

“Having second thoughts?” Akira questioned, casually tapping his fingers against Akechi’s sides.

“You’re w-wasting your t-time,” Akechi countered with a scowl, though the effect was ruined by his flushed face and watery eyes.

“Suit yourself,” Akira shrugged, lowering his head.

And before Akechi had a chance to brace himself-

PBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTT!

Akira’s lips were vibrating against his bare belly.

“WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA?!” Akechi screeched as if he’d been shocked. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” he demanded, writhing helplessly in place. 

Akira wondered if Akechi could feel him smirking, blowing raspberry after raspberry as his captive grew more frantic.

“YOHOHOHOHOU BAHAHASTAHARD!” Akechi tried to shout, cackling hysterically all the while. 

It seemed only a matter of time before he was overwhelmed... until the unexpected happened.

“ENOHOHOHOHOUGH!”

Akira backed off immediately, staring in awe as Akechi’s princely attire melted away. Left in its place was an entirely new costume, darker and slimmer in appearance.

Akechi didn’t notice until Akira pulled off his helmet, exposing his openly stunned face.

“Huh... guess that confirms my theory. You really are the Black Mask.” 

Both were silent as they re-evaluated the situation. Akira, however, recovered first, jumping right back into the interrogation.

“GYAHAHAH! WHAHAT THE FUHUHUCK?!”

“Oh, did you think we were done? Not even close!” he emphasized with rapid pokes. “Still, who would’ve guessed I could just tickle you into transforming? Definitely didn’t see that coming when I set all this up.”

Even though Akechi’s new costume covered his entire body, Akira found it was perfect for gliding his fingers across. Akechi, on the other hand, came to the horrible realization that the skintight material was absolutely useless against tickling.

“Wow, I can’t believe how smooth this is! I could just spend forever running my hands over it...”

No, worse than that, it seemed to amplify everything. There was just something unbearable about being teased this way. Akira detected this vulnerability as well, slowing down to trace shapes beneath Akechi’s raised arms.

“Feel like naming your employer yet?”

Akechi refused, only to squeak in alarm when Akira wandered lower.

“Sensitive?” Akira goaded, softly scratching his inner thighs.

“You-! Eheheheheek!” Akechi couldn’t help but squirm, legs shaking violently but unable to budge.

“Awww, how cute!” Akira's tone turned playful. “Maybe I should be nice and just stick around here.”

He did just that for several minutes, keeping his touch almost feather-light. The reactions it elicited were as amusing as they were endearing, and for a short moment, Akira allowed himself to forget why he was doing this.

“Look at you, so sweet and adorable... Why haven’t I heard you laugh like this before? It’s way more charming than the fake one you always use, and paired with that smile? I think I’m in love.”

And then something in Akechi seemed to snap.

“Don’t mock me!” 

Akira faltered.

Despite looking furious on the surface, Akechi’s eyes were filled with genuine hurt. The sight of it made Akira’s heart drop.

“What’s wrong?” he asked automatically.

“Is that some kind of joke? You subject me to all of this, then ask me what’s wrong?” Akechi let out a strangled laugh. It sounded more like a sob. “I would’ve preferred actual pain over this humiliation!”

He might’ve been referring to the chosen method of interrogation, but Akira somehow doubted that. It hadn’t seemed personal until the very end, when Akira’s natural tendency to flirt with the detective had taken over.

“...Is this because of the ‘love’ part?”

Akechi recoiled.

“I hate you.”

No you don’t. 

That's what Akira had thought the first time, clutching that familiar glove in his hand.

“No you don’t,” he stated directly this time, not as a challenge, but as a gentle observation. The affectionate tone with which it was delivered was enough to make Akechi turn. 

“What- Why would you-” He stared in disbelief at Akira’s expression, looking for some hint of deceit. When he found only kindness and understanding, he gave up...

...then solemnly confessed everything.

The kiss Akira pressed to his head afterwards was a grateful one.

Lootkeeper

The adventurers were bloodied and beaten when they staggered into my chambers. They generally were, the ones who made it this far. I could never help myself wondering which of them would make it, who was going to go down hard, who would end up sacrificing themselves for the others.

You do this long enough, and the wondering just creeps in.

The very tone of the broken fortress changes when adventurers enter. Nightmares stir from their sleep, traps stretch their necks and the watchers peer out into the gloom. There are things out there with eyes that see clearly through the rain – and there’s always rain.

So I take my traditional place, don the armour I wore on my own journey through these ruins, and wait for them. I rest my hands on the pommel of my sword, embedded in the cracked flagstones where I buried it long ago.

The five of them wearily ready their weapons, stringing themselves into a loose formation. There’s a pair of magic wielders, of wildly different disciplines to judge my their clothing. They hover towards the middle, their fingers aglow with untold powers waiting to come at their beckon. Their rearguard hefts a hammer at me, and I strongly suspect that she’s going to hurl it at the slightest provocation.

The three frontliners bear the brunt of the damage this crew has sustained so far, as per usual. My eyes flick from the tip of a halberd to a gash on the man’s face, watching as it slowly knits itself together.

On the right, a lightly armoured woman with a determined set to her shoulders gives me a more appraising look than most. She’s probably not the planner of the group, but at a guess she might be the face. The bruises suggest that talking hasn’t done her all that much good in here, which I could have told her much earlier.

“If you just let us pass, we don’t have to fight,” she says, barely trying to disguise the bone weariness that suffuses her voice.

“Why do you insist on trying that every time Mariella?” her partner groans, hefting his scimitar.

“Let you pass? That would kind of defeat the point of me, don’t you think?” I ask. You might think they were too exhausted to appreciate my humour, and you would be right. But I get bored sometimes. Everyone does.

“You talk?” one of the magic wielders asks. I pin her as a necromancer. Oh, probably masquerading as a cleric of some nature or life god, but a necromancer nevertheless. The illusions are gone by this point.

“Last I checked. Though chances are I’m not the first being that can talk you’ve encountered on your way here. Not everything that can speak is friendly – or intelligent.”

“It has a point,” the other magic wielder says. “Remember that tree thing?”

“The treeyaeya is not particularly companionable,” I agree.

“You can say that again-“ he cuts off as Mariella smacks the flat of her rapier against his arm.

“Why would it tell us that?” she challenges.

“They, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh,” the hammer-thrower says, lowering her hammer. “I’ve never met something that cared about pronouns that wouldn’t monologue before attacking me.”

“I’ve never felt more insulted and more seen at the same time,” I reply.

“Are you going to attack us,” Mariella asks, looking more curious than weary.

“That really depends on if you’re going to attack me. But I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

The magic fades from the mages’ fingertips, and all but one of them sheath their weapons.

“Come on, Vanagan. If they were going to start a fight, they’d have done it by now. I mean, look at the size of that sword.”

“Much too big to be practical,” I agree, taking my hands from the pommel and resting them by my sides. “Totally stuck in the flagstones, too. It’s mostly just for show.”

Vanagan, the halberdier, finally relaxes. He pulls his dented helm from his head and rests it on a hidden hook on his shoulder. I guess his hair is usually coiffed, but right now it looks as dishevelled as the rest of him. Not bad looking, all things considered.

“What are you doing here, then, if you’re not going to fight us?” the necromancer asks.

“You’re almost at the top now,” I explain, “and quite frankly you’ve been through a lot to get this far. I’m here to give you a little rest and some kind words of encouragement.”

Most of them seem happy with that, and a couple sit down on the flagstones. They look about ready to sleep. A frown creases Mariella’s face, as if she doesn’t quite believe me. I shed my helmet, crusty old thing that it is, and reveal my lined face to them all. I grin.

“Oh, and to arm you all for the fight ahead, that is.”

They leave their exhaustion in my antechamber, as I lead them into the armoury. The forge and the workshop are tertiary to their concerns, and there are secrets in there that aren’t mine to share. Not that they have much time to use them at the moment.

The second greatest joy that I have these days, after messing with adventurers who come to face me, is the looks on their faces as they spin on their heels, staring up at the towering racks of tools, weapons, armour and trinkets that fill my armoury.

“What’s the catch?” the hammer thrower, Hylie, asks. I already like her to-the-point attitude.

“Take a piece, leave a piece,” I say.

“Equal value?” Mariella’s partner, Bykar, interjects. “Alright, I might be able to swap everything I have for this gold spoon then.”

“That spoon can turn any liquid into pure magical energy. Charges mages up like a lightning strike.”

Bykar puts the spoon back hurriedly, as if he worried it would break on him.

“No, not equal value. For any piece of gear you leave behind, you can take a piece of gear from here. A whole suit of armour for a single knife, if you wish. But you must leave behind one more item than you take.”

“Are they all enchanted? Any why one more?” Trudy the necromancer asks, looking more excited by the minute.

“Every one. And you have to leave more than you take, so the armoury can grow.”

“I could have told you that,” Vanagan scoffs, “it’s a typical deal with these kinds of types. Let me guess – you somehow use our attachment to the items to fuel the magic that makes them worth so much more in the end?”

His companions stare at Vanagan in unconcealed disbelief.

“He’s quite right. Though, it’s less about fuel and more that the technique involves evoking an enchantment from the item’s history. Chances are you’re the most significant part of that history though, given that you brought them here. There’s a lot of nuance to this kind of enchantment, but I doubt you have much time to discuss it. Your Quest and all.”

Vanagan looks smug at being right, and the rest of the group seem keen to move on from anything that might cause their friend to start crowing about his intelligence.

“Where do you want the things we’re trading?” Hylie asks. I motion towards a series of broad, flat silver trays.

The group splits up to hunt through the vast stock of treasures available to them.

This part of the process is another one that fascinates me – the way that different people choose to approach it. I watch as Byker slowly strips himself of every piece of equipment that he has with him. The battered armour, his sword, shield and a handful of minor magical trinkets that he’d clearly accumulated of the course of their venture into the fortress. He lays each out, and counts them, trying to make sure that he has a fair number. When he seems satisfied with the count, he looks up at me and I nod, accepting the total that he has calculated.

Then he disappears into the stacks, combing through as much of the armoury as he can make it through. I spot him pick out a glittering suit of armour that can blind his enemies in a fight and a solid wooden round shield whose crest is almost imperceptible beneath the blood that has stained it. The latter is infused with the fury of a dragon, and I’m not even sure what the full effects of the shield would be when bonded.

On the other hand, Mariella doesn’t leave a single thing on the trays. Instead, she prowls the pathways between the stacks, her eyes running over every item she sees but not staying for longer than a moment on any until she spies a rapier, much like her own, with a dark emerald embedded in its pommel. She draws the weapon, and feels some part of its power brush up against her mind, whispering of the things that she could do with it if she leaves here with it.

Mariella walks back over to me, takes off her necklace and unsheathes her well-worn rapier, placing them on the tray in front of her. Without looking at me, she buckles the enchanted sword to her side, and returns to scanning the stacks. Each time she returns, she has another item in hand, and leaves something of hers in exchange.

The lot of them waste little time in assessing the tastiest morsels of the armoury, and in almost no time at all I can tell that they’re mentally preparing themselves for the slog ahead. It’s usually not far, from my chamber to the throne room, but those last few encounters can really test a party’s mettle.

I won’t be bored, when they’re gone. They’ve left the better part of the loot that they entered with, so I have a few solid days of enchanting work ahead of me, as well as some extra, lengthier steps with some of the gnarlier enchantments.

It will be quieter, though.

“Is that everything?” I ask.

“Not quite,” Mariella replies. “Do you have any tips? For what lies ahead?”

This is a smart question, and one that far too many groups don’t think to ask.

“You’ve a big group. I can tell you learned the painful way not to keep too close together, to avoid blasts or anything that might chain. The throne room will force you to unlearn that lesson, if it doesn’t take you out first. Make two self-sufficient subgroups, and be ready to split apart and regroup at a moment’s notice. Dividing attention between the two groups will keep both alive. When your foe starts to gloat, throw your opening volley and hit hard – but make sure you keep a solid reserve. You’ll want to be able to match your opener with another coordinated volley about halfway through. The tricks that will be pitted against you differ each time, but you’ll be able to tell when they’ve all been burned through because the gloating will turn to desperate, brutal fighting. That’s when you throw everything you have out, and whittle whatever’s left away.

If you win, and I hope you do – don’t rest. Other things will come crawling out to try and take your prize from you. They’re not much of a threat, but if you’ve let your guard down they could overwhelm you.

That’s all I remember. Best of luck.”

They absorbed my advice solemnly, and I hoped that enough of it would help them in the long run. I tried never to speak to anything I could not know, and the exact nature of the challenges ahead were unreliable at best. Besides, very little made its way back down the fortress this way, so I rarely learned anything more.

“When we win, we’ll come back through here. Free you from this.”

I shook my head.

“No. I chose to stay here, to work in these chambers for the empowerment of folks like yourself. It will be a difficult enough fight for you, even with the tools I have provided. Without me, it might be years before the fortress is bested.

It is a lonely lot, here, but I could not ask for more fulfilling work.”

At that, they left, bravely facing the chambers ahead. Their spirits had been close to breaking, but now they were renewed.

A figure stirred in the shadows.

IT IS DONE THEN?

“They will fight you at the peak of their strength, lord of this tower. If you best them-“

WHEN

“When you best them, they will nourish your broken soul, and feed the very roots of your power. The fortress may stand for many years on their strength alone.”

GOOD. IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG SINCE I HAD A TRUE CHALLENGE. IT IS A SHAME THAT MORE OF THEM DO NOT OFFER THEIR SOULS TO SAVE THEIR COMPATRIOTS, AS YOU ONCE DID.

I grind my teeth, but say nothing.

WORK WELL, ETERNAL ARMOURER. YOU MAY YET EARN YOUR FREEDOM.

“You may yet a match for your wretched power.”

It fades from my awareness, returning to its physical form to prepare for the challenge. And I am left to wonder, again, whether I am a thorn in that monster’s side, or a chef preparing its every meal to perfection.

Hotel Hatred

Author: @starryeyedsweetheart

Pairing: Tom Holland & Reader

Word Count: 2250

Note: maybe a part two, depends on how ambitious i’m feeling ;) also lemme know if you want to be on any of my taglists

When it came to acting in the new Spiderman movie that will have Marvel fans combust from the pure brilliance of it, I loved it.

When it came to spending all my time with Tom Holland because I was playing his love interest, I hated it.

Nothing in the world could get my blood boiling faster than that idiotic boy opening his lipless mouth. There’s nothing truly wrong with him...except for his inability to shut the hell up when it came to the movie plot, or the way he doesn’t ever shut up in general. Don’t even get me started on his cockiness. Sure, he can do a couple flips and shit. So what? Half the time, he lands right on his stupid face and those are probably the best moments of my life.

The hatred I have for him is not one sided. Believe me when I tell you that Tom hates me just as much as I despise him. Getting caught between our intense glares can probably murder an animal as large as an elephant if looks could really kill.

I’m not quite sure why this mutual resentment for one another began. Just from meeting him, I could already feel the uneasiness bubble within my stomach. I’ve heard that he was polite, but somehow that trait of his flew out the window ten minutes into meeting him.

Somehow, our on screen chemistry is nothing like our offscreen screaming matches and snide remarks. The directors actually loved how well we work when we’re faking any ounce of kindness to one another. To me, Peter Parker could own my heart in the blink of an eye. And then, when I blink myself back into reality and see Tom’s smug face, I want to vomit.

And just the idea of kissing him tomorrow has my head spinning a million miles an hour as I’m sprawled out on my hotel room bed. I’ve been tossing and turning for the past hour, not understanding why the thought of making out with him is keeping me up. I’m sure it’s the absolute resentment I feel towards him, but my hatred for him has never kept me up before.

So, I curl myself into the sheets of the mattress, hugging the blankets to my chest as warmth fills me up. I snuggle deeper into comfort, eyes shut peacefully and I feel it.

I feel the sweet satisfaction of slumber rocking me to peace...until my eyes snap open to the shrill, sharp sound of rapid booms against my hotel door.

“Who the hell?” I grumble groggily, forcefully throwing the covers off my body in a fit of anger. The knocking continues as I stomp across the room to the front door. Swinging it open, my eyes meet a familiar pair of beady brown ones before slamming the door shut.

Before hearing that satisfying click of the lock, Tom’s arm is propped up against the door, successfully stopping me. I groan, letting him pushing open once again.

“I can’t sleep,” he says.

“Well, I can.”

I go to shut the door, this time harsher. Still, Tom quickly shoves his foot in between, barely flinching from the quick movement.

“Can I come in, already? It’s quite rude of you to leave a guest out in the hallway.” I squint at him like he was the dirt at the bottom of my shoe. Pursing my lips, I try to quench the bitter taste he leaves in my mouth just from speaking. He sighs loudly and dramatically. “I haven’t got all night, Y/L/N.”

“What if I do?”

“I know you’re an immortal, demonic being, but—Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he suddenly shouts as I go to slam the door once again. I slowly pull it back open, brows furrowing at his frantic yelling. Taking a good look at him, I finally realized how disheveled and messy he looks.

His curly hair was a bird’s nest atop his head, almost if he had been tugging and running his fingers through the waves nonstop. His t-shirt was wrinkled like he had been tossing and turning in bed. Tom’s brown eyes were unbelievably tired, and I couldn’t put a finger on why he looked like shit more than usual.

“Are you alright?” I question wearily, voice void of concern. I was more suspicious than anything.

“I just…” He sighs again. Are his lungs okay? What’s with all the constant sighing? “I need to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Y/L/N.”

“Hold up,” I open the door a little wider, propping my hand against my hip and narrowing my eyes. “Me?”

Tom frustratedly throws his hands in the air. “Yes, okay! It’s you I need to have a conversation with in the middle of night. You’re the only person I can talk to about this. If coming here was a waste of time, then I’ll just go.”

He turns to leave, and watching his back as he took a step triggered something inside of me. I open the door a little wider, the creaking of the hinges causing Tom to look over his shoulder. He stares at me in disbelief and I roll my eyes.

“Well, are you coming in or what?”

A few moments pass as he awkwardly shuffles in past me, his natural scent passing me by. Due to it being the middle of the night, his nauseating cologne isn’t drenching his outfit. Night-time Tom is more pleasing. He takes a seat at the foot of my bed, folding his hands in his lap. Tom’s back was straight, as if being in my presence made him feel he should be alert 24/7.

I stare at him skeptically. His eyes didn’t seem as beady, even in this dim lighting. His jaw wasn’t clenched in the obvious anger he always had for me. From the way his fingers fidgeted, it was almost like he was nervous. But I wasn’t buying it for one second.

I lean up against the wall across from the bed, arms crossed and waiting. The silence between us was suffocating, my heart suddenly missing our continuous banter and arguing. Tom just sitting there, perfectly innocent just this once, was messing with my head. I couldn’t help but feel nervous, my heart racing at the sight of him.

“Frog got your tongue?” I inquire.

Tom lets out a soft, tired laugh that suddenly twists my heart. “It’s hard,” he shrugs. “Saying what I want to say while also saying it right.”

“Tom, it’s three o’clock in the morning, and I have no idea what you just tried to tell me.”

“I’m nervous about kissing you tomorrow,” he quickly blurts out.

My eyes widen in surprise before I push myself off the wall to stand. “Uh, what?” I utter in complete confusion. That’s what’s keeping him up, too? Too. What is going on?

“I know we have great onscreen chemistry, but what if we’re not good enough actors? What if we can’t pull off kissing each other?” he starts to ramble, standing up and pacing the room. His fingers find themselves in his hair, just like I thought they would. “I don’t wanna mess this up. This is such a big movie. And what if we have to kiss like multiple times because we can’t get it right. This is Marvel, we’re talking about here. They’ll want it to be good. What if we can’t make it good, Y/N?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I interrupt. My head was spinning from his constant talking. The sound of my first name leaving his lips surprisingly didn’t leave a raging fire of annoyance in my stomach like it usually would. “It’s kissing, Holland. It can’t be that hard.”

“It is when two people hate each other.”

“And you had to come all the way to my room to remind me of our shared hatred because?” I ask, wanting him to finish my sentence.

Tom halts. He stands a couple feet in front of me, chest heaving up and down from the continuous ranting. “Because…” he trails off. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I have a solution but I don’t know if you’d want to do it.”

Pursing my lips, I put some thought into it. Some real thought. I hate to admit it, but the idea of screwing up the entire scene because of a petty hatred for one another terrified me. This movie is my one shot at getting my name out into the acting world. I want to pursue my dream, prove those who mocked me wrong. Despite the small part of spite thrashing about in my stomach, there was also my heart yearning for this. All my life, all I wanted to do was act. This was my dream job. I’m literally living the dream, and I can’t let something as meaningless as one kiss with a stupid boy ruin it.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask, feeling my shoulders slump in defeat. Again, it was three in the morning. There’s no point in trying to keep up this never ending facade of hating Tom anymore, not when he seemed just as defenseless.

“You might want to sit down for this,” he suggests.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I quip.

His lips turn into another dopey, tired smile. “This won’t work if you’re going to be a brat.”

I mock him, my voice tainted with an English accent that only pulled a laugh from his throat. He sits back down at the foot of my bed, eyes staring up at me with a newfound patience. Something about it made my stomach turn. Tom pats the space beside him and I feel a string snap inside of me as I find myself slowly sitting next to him.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers. I don’t have time to respond as he gently grabs my hands, his own enveloping mine in this comfortable warmth. My heart slams against my chest, and I almost choke it down when it suddenly gets stuck in my throat.

“Barely,” I croak, not missing my palms turn clammy.

In response, his thumbs soothingly rubs at the back of my hand. I honestly melt into his touch.

“Stop me at any time you feel uncomfortable, alright?” he murmurs. I nod slowly, suddenly losing my ability to form any coherent words. Tom nibbles at his bottom lip, head tilting to the side. “I’m going to do it now,” he says, words trailing off into an uncertain end.

“Just do it,” I mumble and his lips curl into a silly little grin before he leans in and softly presses his lips against mine. In a matter of seconds, his hands find a familiar home around my waist as he pulls me closer into him. We move against one another with cautious actions, my hands clumsily gripping at the hair on his neck.

For a short second, one beautiful and heart wrenching second, I feel the switch in my brain click. All those times where we were yelling back and forth. Those moments where my eyes linger a little longer on him when we glare. The reason why my heart jumps at the sight of him. It all makes sense.

Kissing him, liking him, made sense.

He pulls away all too soon, barely giving me time to register how much I truly wanted this. Tom’s chest heaves up and down as he cockily smirks at me. “Alright, so maybe it won’t be so bad tomorrow,” he smiles.

“Tom, I-” My confession barely rolled off my tongue before he clapped his hands together and stood up, leaving nothing but cold air and loneliness beside me.

“Great acting, Y/L/N. I always forget you have it in you to be likable at times.”

My heart plummets to a deeper part of me I didn’t know existed. “W-What?” I stutter out, eyes still blinking in and out of reality. Or maybe blinking back tears I didn’t know I had yet.

“We’ll be fine for the scene tomorrow. I can finally go to sleep with a clear conscience,” Tom says, completely unaware of the feelings I was harboring inside of me.

“That was it? Your plan was to just kiss me to test the waters?” I ask, voice a little more defensive and high pitched than what I’d hope.

He furrows his brow. “Uh, yeah. That kiss was just that. A kiss. Nothing more. Nothing less.” My heart twists and Tom’s posture suddenly falters. “Why? Did that mean something to you?”

No. It’s late and I’m tired. Of course it didn’t mean anything. Or maybe it meant everything.

I shake my head, the resentment I had for Tom creeping back up my spine. I couldn’t find it in myself to yell at him, fight another pointless argument. I just usher him out of my hotel room in an anxious fit before he’s in the hallway and I’m hiding behind the door once again. I barely mutter a bitter good night before his hand is stopping me from closing the door once again.

“Wait, that didn’t mean anything, right?” he asks, voice dripping in an emotion I couldn’t decipher.

My chest aches. My nose twitches while a sour taste is left in the back of my tongue. I try to shake the feelings out of my system. I attempt to cleanse myself from the flood of thoughts suddenly crashing over my brain in a fatal tsunami.

“Never,” I spit out, avoiding his eyes. “Nothing that happens between us could ever mean anything.”

--

taglist: @me-a-hopeless-romantic @ellie24avery @embrace-themagic

Oliver Pt. 2: Post-Monastery, 26, Receptionist

What is the biggest frustration you’re facing now?

Figuring out what I want to do with my life. Trying to figure out next steps. Just trying to figure out what actually truly makes me happy and where I see my career going.

2. What trait do you wish you most had?

See, it’s really easy for me to answer and say what traits I wish I didn’t have. I wish that my brain didn’t read into things so much immediately. My brain has just been trained at this point to jump to the worst possible solution and feeling the need to plan and always be anticipating things. I wish that I could just be calm. I wish I could just chill out. I think it’s due to a combination of ADHD and anxiety. I spent a really long time feeling like I had to plan for every worst case scenario and always know where I’m going, always know what my plan is for my life. Now I’m at the stage where I’ve realized that everything that I’ve tried to plan for has not actually happened. So I spent all that time worrying. I’ve wasted a lot of time being so wrapped up in my head and trying to anticipate things and it came at the cost of not enjoying a portion of my life. That’s been a major focus of mine recently, just trying to just chill.

3. What are 3 characteristics you look for in a friend?

Compassion. Discernment. Love. Compassion and love are similar, but they’re not the same thing. I don’t really want to surround myself with un-compassionate people. I’ve done that a lot and that’s not an enjoyable way to live. In terms of discernment, I need people in my life who can recognize the nuance of situations and the nuance of being human. I’ve spent a lot of time exerting myself and trying to get people who I love to see the nuance in my actions and their actions and the world. It’s not been a waste of my energy, but it’s not been enjoyable. It hasn’t really worked. As someone who’s tried to cultivate that in themselves and not just been black and white and not automatically jump to conclusions, I think it’s an important quality to have as you get older. Love in general. If love and light and kindness is not your first priority then what’s the point? Our world’s gunna be on fire in 30 years. They came out with a report saying “Human Civilization is Probably Going to end by 2050.” We have 30 years left, just be fucking nice. Just be nice.

4. What makes you feel brave?

Myself. My time at the monastery taught me that I can pretty much do anything. There were times there where I just wanted to leave and I thought I was going to leave. I was miserable, I was hungry, I was tired, I was not happy. I was dealing with all this trauma and all these torture techniques. Sleep deprivation and malnourishment are literal torture techniques. I was dealing with all of that plus my own shit. I still stayed and nobody thought that I would. People did not think that I was going to make it to the end, but I did. Part of it was just pure spite. I posted about it on Facebook after two weeks and I was like “Well, crap I guess now I really do have to stay.” I’m really glad I did because I have really bad sleep issues. I had a really terrible relationship with sleep and food before I left for the monastery. Then I spent a month getting up at 4:00AM and just eating what I was told to eat. Getting through those really difficult circumstances taught me that even when I think I can’t do it, I really can. I’ve never had that experience before.

5. What makes you feel vulnerable?

My anxiety. I post everything that’s happened in the past few months. My social anxiety has sky rocketed. I have a really hard time spending time around people in general and spending time around my friends. After all the shit hit the fan in my life and finding out that the people who I did trust and love more than anybody else, I thought trusted and loved me. Then finding out they had no idea who I was. I’m constantly analyzing my actions and worrying about what people are thinking of me. I did that before, but it’s over the top now. It’s something I’m working on, but it’s a real struggle for me. I know that in order to get over it, I just have to deal with it. I just have to put myself in these situations. I’m not just gunna stop hanging out with my friends. At the same time, sometimes I just need to step away because I’m just going to have a panic attack. I think I’m going to find out later that I did something that pissed somebody off and nobody’s going to tell me.

6. What was your proudest moment?

Finishing the monastery. I didn’t think that I was going to finish it. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There were several moments where I nearly packed up and left. That fact that I was able to get through that and just power through despite everything that I was dealing with and come out on the other side just as a better person and more secure in who I was and knowing who I was, that was a big deal. It was a real adventure in a lot of ways and mostly because I got to see who I was for the first time. It was very powerful, but also so so hard. The fact that I was able to get through that was definitely one of the defining moments for me so far.

7. Who is your role model / hero and why?

Still my dad. He and I really connect on a wave length that I don’t connect with other people on. When I was away, he would send me letters just little cards and he would put some sort of Buddhist saying or some advice and they would always come at the right time. He was about to send me one for the last week and it was the silent week and we weren’t allowed to receive any mail. So he gave it to me afterward and he was like “This is the letter I was going to send you at the monastery. You’re only allowed to open it after you finish a really deep meditation session.” So I was like, cool, that will push me to actually doing one. So after two weeks of doing little 15 minute meditations, I sat down and did a full 35 minute sit and I opened the letter and it was blank. I was like, ok. It can be interpreted in anyway that you want to interpret it. There’s a thousand different things he could have put on that, but that fill in the blank did speak to me. It was a very cool moment.

8. What is one life lesson you’d like to pass down to future generations?

Put your phone down. You really don’t need it as much as you think you do. It’s actually ruining your life. You’re not enjoying yourself and you know it. You’re not getting what you think you’re getting out of it. It’s literally ruining your life. For the first week at the monastery, I was really good at not having my phone. The last few weeks I was a little bit worse with like sneaking into the bathroom and checking my phone. I really wish that I hadn’t. I almost feel like I would have gotten more out of it. When you’re forced to just sit and be with yourself and just sit in nature and just look and pay attention to the people around you, what’s going on in your head, etc. We’re not in touch with who we are as people. We’re not in touch with the world. We’re not in touch with nature. I don’t want to be anti-technology because yes, there’s good things about it, but we’re so very much abusing it. I see it in my niece and nephew where they don’t know a life without their electronics. They spend most of their life on a screen. That’s all they do. They don’t know any better. You can’t blame them. They’re not happy. They’re not happy kids. I’ll just be on my phone here since coming back and I’ll just be refreshing different apps and just scrolling through and I know I’m not enjoying what I’m going. I just can’t stop. I know that that’s not just me. It’s gunna continue to become more and more of a problem. So I wish that we were just more aware as a society of the dangers of technology and what this is doing to us as people and what it’s doing to our brains. It’s not good. We’re not a happy society and a lot of that is because of the access to technology.

9. What is your opinion of Jesus?

He’s cool. He’s pretty cool. I think he and Buddha would get along. There’s actually an anime where Jesus and Buddha are roommates. They decide to take a vacation to Japan together. Like, they’re deities. They’re Jesus and Buddha and they just met and they’re like “Yeah, let’s go on vacation.” And the first thing they do is go to Disneyland! Tokyo Disney Sea! That’s the first thing they do and it’s hilarious! They get along and they’re super chill. There’s funny little moments where the cultures mesh and don’t work, but it’s very funny. They’re both pretty cool.

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The next time you judge someone for vaping all the time or call them a hipster/whatever in an insulting way for vaping the 0% only… I want you to really think about this.

I have literally clawed at my nails for so many hours over the past few days and just ripped them off further and further down and then ripped/clawed off the loose skin underneath and now I literally have no nail tips to scratch with or use on things requiring nails and it is the most frustrating thing in the world.

This is what happens when I don’t vape… people always ask me why I vape since I smoke the 0%. Like “If you’re not even smoking anything or trying to quit cigs, why bother?” I get that question all the time. It’s because of this. Exactly this. And all the finger pad sized indentations covered in bloodiness that I literally just claw at over and over and over until it is so concave in my skin and so bloody that I can’t anymore and have to put a bandaid over it to keep the blood from getting on my clothing. And it’s because of how often I just claw the skin off my lips. When there’s no chapped skin on my lips to rip off, I literally just dig my nails in until I create a slice where I can grab a bit of flesh with my nail tips and rip at it. And then there’s the bit where I pull my hair out in fist-sized tufts without realizing it until there is a pile of white-blonde hair on the ground around me. And if I can’t get to any of these skin-related clawing things, sometimes I will even use a knife or razor to get the indentation there for me so I can rip pieces of flesh off of the topmost layer.

Yeah, it fucking hurts. It all fucking hurts. And yeah there’s a LOT of blood. Sometimes these wounds don’t stop bleeding for hours at a time. I’m accustomed to just keeping Kleenex on/around me at all times because I do this everywhere I go—home, school, work, general outings…doesn’t matter where I am. The urges are literally so insatiable that I have no choice but to do them. If I don’t, it almost feels like I’m dying. That’s not even a slight exaggeration.

So what do I do to keep my hands busy? I vape. Because when I’m typing or using a controller or driving or anything like that, I will still find a way to do both at the same time. When I’m vaping . .. I’m using my mouth and my hands. And Idk what it is, but the psychological effect from having a nice fruity flavour in my mouth and around me and the feel of blowing out the smoke…the feel of pressing the button…the sound of it as it goes through the filter when you suck on it… it all somehow takes my mind off these urges and I don’t feel them anymore.

Mind you, these urges are so strong and so insatiable that they have even affected test scores for me before. On timed tests, I would sometimes get this urge. And I would have to put down my pencil…and spend maybe 30 minutes clawing at myself and making myself bleed profusely. Thereby giving up a good chunk of my test time. There was even one test that I had to re-do because I only answered one question before the urge kicked in and I spent a whole hour and a half ripping myself to shreds.

So for something to be able to take my mind off these urges…. that right there is a fucking miracle in itself.

Panic attacks are a thing of the past with vapes. All you have to do when you feel your heart speed up and your mind start to reel and you start to feel like you are physically dying via cardiac arrest is pull out your vape and take long inhales and long exhales. It forces you to breathe deeply, thereby calming you down and making your heart beat slower and making your thoughts chill the fuck out. I suffer from panic disorder so I do not deal with anxiety, but I’m sure it could probably help with anxiety, too. I just have almost purely physical panic attacks. Which, yes, I’m prescribed valium for but…why waste precious drugs when you have a coping mechanism that works even better and much quicker than popping a pill?

Vaping also serves as a grounding method when I’m dissociating or having a schizo episode (I’m schizo-affective). It doesn’t happen a lot anymore because I’m medicated, but when it does happen, I always have a really hard time grounding myself if I don’t have someone to help me. Vaping is something physical that helps me remain in the now and helps me to know that the hallucinations are not real and that I am still in the same spot I was when I first started dissociating/hallucinating. It’s absolutely fantastic if you need grounding.

I also suffer from BPD. As you should know, there’s no cure or help for BPD except therapy. Well, therapy does nothing for me. I’ve seen so many therapists who all have different therapy styles ranging from the structured, typical, corporate-based psychiatrist that will diagnose me with this or that based on extensive questionnaires and time spent talking about things and then prescribe me psych meds and go from there with medication management until we have found the right ones….all the way down to the opposite end of the spectrum of psychologists who don’t believe in putting you in a box (aka diagnosing) and don’t believe in medicine and will give you hypno therapy and music therapy and art therapy and chakra therapy and nutritional advice that will (allegedly) improve your mental health and, if needed, give you recommendations for all-natural medication. I have seen every kind inbetween. Therapy does not help… I hit a wall at a certain point with them every single time and then we have nothing to talk about and they have nothing to say and they basically have to discharge me because I’m beyond help at that point. Do you know how discouraging it is to be told by a bunch of professionals that you’re beyond help after they explicitly tell you in the beginning that no one is beyond help and that they will help you? Because I sure as hell do.

But anyways, Borderline makes you extremely impulsive. I’m talking like…. ruin-your-entire-life-with-extreme-on-the-spot-decisions type of impulsive. I usually don’t think after a thought enters my mind even if it is an impulsive or intrusive thought. I just act. I act on it. Immediately. With no regrets and no thought to consequences. That is pretty much stereotypical BPD behaviour. A slue of impulsive decisions that all tie in to self gratification.

When I have my vape on me, it allows me time to think even when I don’t want to. When a thought enters my mind, it makes me pause and think because I’m already smoking and I usually don’t want to stop for a bit and would have to turn my vape off to do what my thoughts say is a good idea to do. So I will sit there and vape for a little while longer and while I’m sitting there, I suddenly find myself actually thinking about the thought and whether I should act on it or not. I can’t even tell you guys how monumental this change has been in and for me.

It’s also a coping mechanism for when I want to cut myself or kill myself, which happens all too often.

I vape because it helps me with my mental health. And it helps me to not subconsciously OR consciously hurt myself in any way—physically and/or psychologically/mentally/emotionally.

Do you guys even know how many psych wards I have been in since I started vaping?? None. Zero. Not even ONE. I went from being institutionalized almost once every other month for 7 years straight (and had increased to once EVERY month right before I started vaping) to being in none. I have now been out of wards for SO LONG that a mental health institution that keeps an eye on specific people like me call me to tell me I needed to have a check in with one of their mental health professionals at some point soon since I am not in therapy and haven’t been in a ward in such a long time.

Yeah, some people really are the stereotypical douchebag about vaping and will be the type to blow smoke in your face only to tell you to stop whining because there’s no nicotine/tobacco in it so why does it matter? I mean, I see their point, but it’s a matter of fucking personal boundaries and respect. Which they do not have. You know the type…you can just tell by the way they dress and act and carry themselves like they are better than everyone else.

Then there are those of us that vape in public spaces and when driving and (with permission) at friends houses because it literally helps us to not destroy ourselves. We try to not blow clouds in your face. We try not to blow big billowing clouds of smoke. We generally take small, frequent hits and are very diligent about keeping the smoke away from others. But…the wind and weather is unpredictable. It happens. We don’t do it on purpose. And Idk about everyone else, but I usually apologize to the person profusely and reassure them that it is the 0% and only flavoured water vapour. So they needn’t worry.

But anyways . .. I just wanted to bring awareness to the fact that not all of us vape just for show and for fun. It can be used as a serious coping mechanism for even those people that have never smoked in their lives. Just stay away from any sort of buttery flavour, like popcorn. Because it has been proven that it causes popcorn lung. Which… trust me when I say it looks extremely painful and is an absolutely horrible, crippling thing to deal with. Look it up if you don’t know what it is. And you’ll see how serious and scary it is. Stay away from anything with butter flavour in it. There haven’t been enough studies to show whether smoking the 0% of everything else affects you in any way. I’m sure there’s something it affects. Everything in this world affects your body in some way. But it obviously won’t be as severe as lung cancer or anything of the sort. It is definitely a safer alternative to smoking and a great way to quit, if you can’t just put them down on your own.

I really just wanted to bring awareness to this because it almost seems like everyone wants to just group everyone who vapes into the “hipster wanting to look cool” group or whatever…just doing it for show and to be “edgy”. I don’t think people are even aware that this is a coping mechanism for a lot of mentally ill people. I know I’m not the only one. I have talked to others who use it in the same way for their issues. So… here you go. If this is you, here’s a post for you. Lol.

Hey if you have time: ReaderXChekov where reader gets injured on an away mission and has to go see McCoy but plot twist reader is afraid of doctors and tries to hide. Chekov finds reader and drags/coaxes them to med-bay and stays while they get treated and is in general a good partner and friend. Bonus points if McCoy is grumpy that they are being so affectionate while he is trying to work, but secretly is glad Chekov is there because he knows reader is scared of doctors.

Chekov X Reader – An Apple a Day

A/N – Writing for Chekov but thinking of Jaal in Mass Effect Andromeda.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

There was no doubt about it. Being a red shirt officially sucked. Sure, you’d often heard jokes about it but you’d never actually believed it. Now, you were stuck behind a rock on a desert outcrop, shielding yourself from Klingon fire while Kirk and Spock did the same a few metres away. Ideally, you could have laid covering fire down all day until Scotty beamed you back aboard the Enterprise. The planet however, ruined that plan with its highly magnetic field, meaning that because of interference with the sensors, Scotty could only beam the three of you back if you were all grouped together; that meant you had to leave the safety of cover so as not to risk Kirk or Spock’s life. It’s not that you didn’t trust Kirk and Spock to have your back but being the only security member there left you wishing you were the one protecting your team, the way it was meant to be; after all, you were the best shot of the landing party.

“I couldn’t have been more scientifically minded. Nooo, I had to decide punching things was more fun.” You grumbled silently, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come next.

At Kirk’s nod, you sprinted the daunting gap which had seemed pitifully small only a few minutes ago. Seconds before you made it to safety, you felt a stinging sensation under your ribs. You knew all too well the pain of a phaser shot and this most certainly wasn’t it. A risky glance at your attackers revealed that the Klingons were accompanied by some form of unknown animal. It was a creature the likes of which you’d never seen before, an iguana-like animal, about the size of a large German Shepard, that apparently spat some form of acid. You felt tugging on your arm and in the next instance, the three of you were back in the transporter room.

Kirk gave you a concerned once-over, his gaze lingering on your torn shirt, the bile had lightly burnt the skin underneath. You glanced down at the injury; fortunately, it wasn’t causing much pain past a light stinging.

“Spock, comments?” Kirk demanded, never looking away from you.

“The Klingons have been suspected of creating genetic hybrids for some time now, Captain. Lieutenant (L/N)’s injury appears to be the work of the first one we’ve seen; effects are unknown. It is advisable that the lieutenant is escorted to med-bay for immediate treatment and long-term observation.”

Kirk nodded at the practical analysis, meanwhile, deep-routed fear clawed at the back of your mind, making you nervous about what could come if you didn’t act fast. Hiding your reservations, you tittered a small laugh, Spock raised a curious eyebrow.

“Come on guys, a doctor for this paper cut? I’ve had worse injuries from falling over, I feel fine, really.” You grinned breezily.

“No, Lieutenant.” Kirk argued. “I want you checked over by Bones.”

You held up your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, you got it. I’ll go to med-bay right now if it puts your mind at ease. Still, I really do feel fine so it’d be a waste of your time for you to escort me when I already know the way.”

“You sure?”

“Stop fussing, will you? I’ll see you later.”

Before any more arguments could be made you ran out of the room, taking a left for the turbolift but changing direction as soon as you knew it was safe to. If you were going anywhere, it was straight to your hab-suite for a change of clothing. Once in the safety of your room, you glanced at the wound which had dried out rather quickly, you hid it with the new shirt and left quickly, heading to the one place you would fade into the background; Engineering.

“Vhat do you mean ‘not here’? Vhere else could (s)he be?” Chekov asked McCoy dubiously. He’d come to pick you up from med-bay as a surprise only to find a disgruntled McCoy arguing with Spock over the comm-link.

“I mean that (Y/N) is not in this room, nor has (s)he been here since the mandatory physical at the beginning of the year.” McCoy growled gruffly.

“But (s)he’s hurt, zhe Captain said so.”

“I’m sure (s)he is but I don’t have time to play a damned game of hide and seek on a ship this big. You want my advice? Get a tracking device. Better yet, check with Scotty, (s)he’s probably with him in engineering anyway.”

“Really?” Chekov looked hopeful.

“HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?” McCoy burst out irritably. “You’re not gonna find anything here, go ask somebody else and stop wasting my time, I do actually have other patients, damn it.”

Chekov knew better than to provoke McCoy further, he left the doctor alone and begun his search for you, trying to reach you through your communicator every so often but receiving no reply.

You didn’t remember entering the empty storage room, in fact, you didn’t remember much at all. All you could focus on now was the debilitating effect the iguana-dog had had on you; evidently, the bile it produced was a fast acting venom with a delayed start, not an acid. Knowing what had damaged you however didn’t help, what you needed now was a cure. You were currently experiencing a wide-array of symptoms, each worse than the last. It had started with mild nausea and sweating. Then came the dimming vision. After that, your breathing had become shallow and laboured. Even if you wanted to see a doctor now, which you didn’t, it wouldn’t be possible; small movements alone caused serious pain to flare through your body, as if your skin was on fire.

The next stab of pain caused you to wonder exactly how much time had passed, it had lost its effect at some point around the dimming vision. Had it been seconds or hours? Was it even the same day or had you slipped into a different one? How long did it take for the various new symptoms to occur?

At some point during your suffering, mild delirium set in. You were stuck reliving the previous battle, except, with each rendition, there was something else out of place. In one battle, you were walking on the ocean’s waves, in another you were fighting the people you’d lost through the years. Finally, you could hear echoes of things you’d heard before while you fired your phaser at imaginary foes. One echo however, was new, something you’d never heard said before. The familiar voice resonated within your thoughts, bringing you briefly back into reality.

“Pavel.” You mumbled upon feeling his arms wrap around you, raising you into the air; it felt vaguely like flying.

“Argh, you stupid, stupid… Hang on, McCoy vill fix zhis.” Chekov stressed frantically. He couldn’t believe his eyes, your skin was almost translucent, revealing the veins and arteries underneath.

“No.” You batted his chest lightly, barely a tap. “I’m fine… don’ need him.”

Chekov wasn’t listening, he was too busy trying to keep you steady as he ran the way to med-bay.

“Don wanna hurt ‘gain.” You argued bleakly through laboured breaths.

“He’ll make you better lyublyu (love).”

“…Docs ’re dangerous.”

“Not zhis one. I promise.”

Fresh waves of pain coursed through you, you writhed against Chekov who tightened his grip on you.

The only indication that you’d reached med-bay was McCoy’s exclamation of, “Good God man.”

“Doctor.” Chekov pleaded helplessly, so sure that he was going to lose the one person he truly loved aboard the Enterprise.

“On the bed.” McCoy ordered.

“Don’t leave.” You whimpered, using your little energy to grasp Chekov’s shirt.

“I’m here lyublyu (love), don’t vorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll make my work much easier.” McCoy grumbled sarcastically, hiding his concern for you behind a disdainful tone.

Shouted words turned to fuzzy mumblings and then to nothing as your body finally gave in, though whether to exhaustion or medication, you weren’t sure. McCoy did his best to stabilise you, all the while issuing orders to Kirk and Spock through his communicator; if he was going to save your life, you’d need a different kind of help.

After hours of work, pumping you with endless hypos and chemicals, your survival became a waiting game, relying purely on the success of Kirk and Spock. Chekov stopped murmuring comforting words to you for the first time since he’d brought you in. Fresh tears fell freely from his eyes as he gripped your hand and steeled himself for the question he’d been dreading since the start.

“Vill-” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Vill (s)he make it?”

McCoy sighed, lifting an uncomfortable hand to his face. “I don’t know.”

Although he’d been prepared for the answer, Chekov shuddered queasily. What he really wanted to hear was something along the lines of, “Yeah it looks bad now but it’ll be okay.” or, “(S)he’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

It was foolish to wish for a lie but that was all he wanted to believe. Hearing the truth was acknowledging the likelihood of your death and that was something he simply couldn’t bear. After hearing that, Chekov couldn’t bring himself to ask anything else so he settled for whispering all his plans for the two of you in the future, slipping naturally into Russian as a small comfort to himself.

You struggled to open your eyes, squinting against bright light that forced you to keep them shut for a minute. You didn’t think you had ever felt worse, every muscle ached like it did after intense training, your mouth held the after-taste of vomit, and you could feel extra pain where you knew several hypos had been used; on top of all that, there was a heavy weight on your thighs and you wondered briefly if you’d been paralysed. You fought against the light again, forcing your eyes open until they adjusted. If you’d had the energy to smile, you would have, Chekov was sat on a chair next to your bed, his head was resting on your legs and his usually neat hair was ruffled all over the place.

“Glad to see you’ve joined the land of the living.” Nurse Chapel beamed at you, bringing a large glass of water with a straw in it.

“H-”

Nurse Chapel help up a hand. “No talking. I expect you to drink that first and then you’re going to let me run some tests; when I’m done, you can talk, understand?”

You bobbed you head lightly, instantly regretting the headache it brought with it.

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” She passed you the water, making sure you were taking steady sips before scanning your body and talking again. “You know, you’re lucky you got me instead of Doctor McCoy. He’s worked on you for almost 60 hours straight and let me tell you, he’s furious; still, underneath all that crabbiness lies a heart of gold, if he yells, it’s because he cares. Now tell me, do you remember what happened?”

Disjointed memories of your delirium came to you, the only true one being of the iguana-dog. You put down the now empty glass and cleared your throat, ready to test your voice. “Venom?” You croaked.

“Yes, venom that you foolishly tried to hide. Venom that we didn’t have a cure to.”

“How-”

“Spock and Kirk had to ‘liberate’ one of the creatures that did it from the Klingon camp so we could synthesize a cure; I imagine they’ll want words with you too.”

You cringed, the thought of a telling off wasn’t appealing, surely the venom had been enough of a punishment already.

“Don’t worry.” Chapel smiled. “They won’t get to my patient until you’re fully recovered.”

You silently prayed that wouldn’t be for a long time so you could put off the punishment. “What about the iguana-dog?”

“Iguana-dog? Oh, the Triffid that poisoned you?”

You raised an eyebrow at the name.

“Yes, that’s’ in the animal lab being examined, though it made quite the effort to get to you. Spock believes that the scent the other Triffid made the creature friendly towards you; it’s tried to attack everyone else on the ship you know.”

“I always did want a pet that could kill me.” You joked, lying back uncomfortably.

“Well you’ll have to talk to Kirk about that, for now rest, it’s been a long-”

Chekov stirred, mumbling a tired, “Lyublyu (love).”

Chapel sighed sympathetically, “I’ll give you two five minutes together, any more than that and I’m fetching McCoy.”

Chekov stared blearily after her before coming to his senses and turning his attention to you. “(Y/N)!” he grabbed hold of you enthusiastically, quickly letting go when you cried out in pain.

“Shit, do you need a doctor, vater, sleep, tell me and I’ll get help.” He hovered uneasily, clearly ready to run wherever you needed.

“It’s okay, jus’ need a little rest and I’ll be right as rain.”

Chekov stared wide-eyed, unsure of what to say next. He was past anger and elation; right now, he just wanted to care for you and make your recovery his number one priority.

“Thanks for staying with me.”

“Lyublyu (love), I’m never leaving.”

“Good luck with that, five minutes and Chapel gets McCoy to throw you out.”

“I’d like to see him try.”

You managed a weak laugh at Chekov’s bravado, he was swelling his chest out to look bigger. “Easy there Rambo, McCoy would wipe the floor with a toothpick like you. What’s say we leave the fighting to a pro like me?”

“Leave zhe fighting to you?” Chekov tutted. “Zhat’s vhat got us into zhis mess.”

“Alright, alright, then you think you can stay on guard duty while I sleep? Who knows what kind of experiments McCoy’s ready to try when I nod off.”

“He vould never.”

“Wanna bet? I hear he’s pretty pissed at me.”

“(Y/N) please, zhe whole ship is pretty pissed at you.”

“Oh yeah? What about you?”

“I’m zhe vorst of all, unfortunately I’m stupid enough to love you.”

You grinned and continued the conversation, quickly losing track of time. Nurse Chapel watched through the window in the adjacent room while McCoy complained at her about anything and everything he could think of concerning you. “-and on top of that Chekov’s still in there and I know he won’t (Y/N) leave to do his damned job; that’s distraction in the workplace.”

“Oh hush.” Chapel chided. “We both know you’re glad (s)he’s not alone.”

McCoy blustered. “No. I’d be glad if the idiot didn’t fear doctors, I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my years.” He kept complaining while rifling through drawers, making himself look busy as Chapel listened; she shook her head and continued to observe you, letting McCoy get all his ranting out before he could get to you, though she feared you would still get an earful anyway.

~♥ PRIVACY PLEASE ♥~

[Okay, here we go. Here’s the thing. I’ve watched Moulin Rogue twice in less than twelve hours in preparation for this. I hope you’re not expecting gifs, because the myriad of emotions a certain someone will be feeling is not conducive for gifs. Okay.

So, when Lucy showed up to the Stove/Maddox place, we had a bright and shining Maddox, all excited until Lucy held out her copy of Moulin Rouge, and then we got a groan, and a ‘I really hoped you were gonna forget about that.’, to which Lucy replies ‘Nope, I’d never forget about Moulin Rouge’. So, she wasted no time in setting the thing up, and meanwhile Maddox was grumbling to himself on the couch.

As soon as the thing was beginning, and Nature Boy was being sung, she sat down beside him, she gave his shoulder a little shove.]

You’re gonna like it. Shut up.

Says you. [Is what he says with a lip up-turned in disgust, though he wraps an arm around her and pulls her close to his side through it.]

[Christian was now giving his introductory monologue, and, given how many times Lucy had seen this movie in the past, she was quietly quoting the thing under her breath, bUT, the words ‘The woman I loved is dead’ came from Christian’s mouth, and there was a scoff from Maddox.]

Oh, she dies. Great. Not only is it a musical, it’s a sob story musical. That’s awesome. [Sarcasm af, probably an eye roll.]

It’s a good story. Stop your judging.

~The love interest dies~~~ It’s a great story, Maddox~~~~. 

Watch the movie before I make you sit on the floor.

[A ‘hmph’ from Maddox as he settles further into the couch as if to say ‘Make me get on the floor. Just try it.’ But he does stop the talking (for the time being.) And off the movie goes into the introductions of the Argentinean and Toulouse, and the arguments of lyric changes, and job offers, and ‘Above all things, I believe in love’, all without a word from Maddox. 

But, as soon as the Green Fairy made her appearance, she could hear just the quietest ‘.. thefuck’ from Maddox, which made her giggle. 

Still, he watched silently, though tiny glances up to his face showed that his expression all throughout the introduction of the Moulin Rogue itself was one of pure confusion. Like, he didn’t know what to make of the guy with the crazy facial hair and ladies singing Patti Labelle songs. Which, no, he probably didn’t know what to make of it. 

Then the men started singing alongside the ladies, and she could feel him perk up.]

Is that... Nirvana? Are they singing Nirvana in this thing? [Another upturning of the lip.]

Yes, Maddox. It’s Nirvana.

This is sacrilege. 

It’s fine. Don’t be so musically pretentious. [Eye roll.]

[More dancing, and more dancing, and some can-can-ing, and some Christian moving around the place, and some Toulouse beckoning him, and then we have the Sparkling Diamond herself appearing on screen, singing about girls’ best friends, and all that. aND THEN, Narrator!Christian mentions the less savory character in this movie. There went his face. Maddox has something to say about this.]

Who’s that asshole, Lucy? He looks like a mole rat with a mustache. He looks stupid.

Christian’ll tell you if you stop talking~.

[’The Duke’ comes from Narrator!Christian’s mouth just as soon as Lucy says that.] ‘The Duke’. Sounds like a douche. I don’t like him.

[Lucy snorts, because boy does he have good judgment. Off goes more singing, and off goes ~Harold telling Satine about said Duke man, and there goes the mix-up with Christian and the Duke, and the dance time with the Christian man, all the sex-mix up talk, and the rest of the song, and doWN SHE GOES OFF THAT TRAPEZE, MY DUDE.]

Oh, cool. So, she’s, like, sick. Right. Got it. Great story so far, Luce.

I’m gonna kick your ass if you keep judging it before you’ve seen the whole thing, sweetie~.

[This shuts him up for a few more minutes, at least. Now we’re with the lovely couple up in the elephant, and Christian is being himself, and talking about poetry while Satine is talking about sex. Nervous af Christian, rolling on the floor Satine. ‘It’s a lil bit funny’ ya know.]

Elton John too. This movie has it all, doesn’t it?

It’s g r e a t.

[Now, Lucy loves this part of the movie (or any part where it’s overtly romantic, actually. Funny how she loves this romantic stuff so much when just three months ago she was scoffing about love to her brother. hm.), so she’s focusing real hard on it, probably with some doofy grin on, and looking all sparkly-eyed at the beautiful Ewan Mcgregor’s voice, and sighing at how BEAUTIFUL this scene is in general.

Maddox must have glanced down at her love-struck expression, because she heard an ‘eugh’, and then looked away from the screen to look at him.]

What? 

You like this? Enough to look like that?

It’s ~romantic, Maddox.

Romantic? [A scoff-laugh as he turns back to the screen.] Yeah. 

[She doesn’t respond because this little asshole wasn’t gonna ruin her favorite movie. So, it’s out that Christian’s not the Duke, and now the real Duke has come to chill, and it’s all fun and games trying to get Christian out of the room, but OOp, there’s the bodyguard, and you know the movie, Jerica, I can’t keep writing synopses. You know how it goes. The Duke leaves and comes back, and ohboy now we’re ~rehearsING~. And it’s that repetitive stuff, you know the deal, it’ll run for fifty years, and all that good stuff. And boy do I mean they say that a lot, because it’s effecting our pretentious snot on the couch.]

I think my brain is melting.

They have to sell the idea. 

Doesn’t stop my brain from melting. And you know what? This Duke guy is a giant creep. I don’t like him.

You’re not supposed to like him.

Well, I don’t. 

Shhhh.

[So, One Day I’ll Fly Away, and all of that. Then we’re onto Elephant Love Medley (AKA, fuck me up. Lucy too. Like I said, any romantic song gets her.) Lucy’s fully immersed, and maybe even leaning in a little bit, and then ‘you crazy fool. I won’t give into you.’. Guess who has something to add?]

Wow, it’s like a conversation with you. I can’t believe you’re in this movie.

Don’t mess up this part. I like this part.

[He doesn’t like this lack of attention on himself, tbh, but he’s gonna stay quiet, and watch the seen, and perhaps get a little immersed into it himself. Lucy’s leaned far forward now, and as soon as the fireworks are going off behind Christian and Satine, she’s crying real tears. It’s just too much, every time. (I sympathize.) This doesn’t escape Maddox’s notice, even though she’s leaning forward now.]

Are you... crying? Are you crying over that?

IT’S SWEET, ASSHOLE.

[Hands up.] Right. Sorry. [He starts pulling her back into his arms.] Come cry over here though, you wimp.

I hate you. [But she goes willingly.]

No ya don’t~.

[Elephant Love Medley has left us, and by this point, Maddox is maybe possibly just a little bit invested in the Satine and Christian relationship. Just a little bit, though. So, here, when we are with Zidler and The Duke, the air of ‘da fuck’ is rolling off of Maddox strong.]

BIND SATINE TO HIM? OH, REALLY? [The Duke’s rant goes on, and Lucy is amused that Maddox has reacted that way, considering he keeps trashing the movie.] Oh, he doesn’t like other people touching HIS things? HIS? Nope. Fuck this guy. He’s gross. I don’t like him.

You already said that~.

I’m just driving home the point. He’s a piece of shit. I don’t like him.

[Lucy just grins and rolls her eyes, because the strong reaction meant he was actually interested in the story. So, she was being proven right, and it was great. So, off the movie goes into the ~montage~ of sorts to show off all the gr8 make out opportunities, and just how blinD af The Duke is.

And onto the 8 o’ clock plans, and the supper oh boy, but she can’t make it to the supper, Duke. She’s got to reHEARSE~.]

That’s right. Ghost his ass.

Would you stop? [But she’s smiling and laughing, because she’s super-amused by all of this, if I didn’t say so before.]

Bye, asshole.

[Lucy decided to let him express himself however he wanted. Like, oh boy. So, there’s more making out, and there’s a Harry, and a Harry’s telling a Satine she’s being cray, and all that. Here comes Maddox again.]

Don’t be a little bitCH, HAROLD. [Lucy snorts a laugh as good ol’ Harry is telling Satine to end the things.] She’s not actually gonna, like, break it off, is she? Luce, that’s bullshit.

I think you should just watch the movie. 

uGH.

[Satine is singing and coughing, and our good friend Narrator!Christian has come back, talking about ‘last, fatal days’, and as soon as those words are heard, Maddox’s head drops into his hands, with an even louder ‘uGGGGH’ sound coming from him. Lucy pats his back and then pulls him back up.]

It’ll be alright, hon~.

This movie is fucking dumb.

Mhmmm.

[Now here comes the second worst scene in this whole movie, and you know what it is. Zidler and all his brilliant lies, my dude. Lucy can feel Maddox tensing up beside her, and when she looks up at him, there is nothing but disgust on that face. (Same, Maddox.) It only worsened the further the number goes on.]

I’m gonna vomit. Tell me when it’s over. [He puts a pillow in front of his face. Not joking. Lucy takes the pillow away.]

Don’t be a baby. It’s almost over now.

I can’t even look at this guy’s face.

[And then it’s over, and Maddox is breathing a sigh of relief until the doctor is on the screen saying the bad things. He’s up in arms again.]

He’s nOT EVEN gonna tell her she’s dyING? Selfish asshole, I SWEAR. Dumb ass movie characters in a dumb ass movie. [Irritated sigh af.]

[Next scene af, cold stabs of jealousy, Satine, ‘we have to end it’.]

She is actually doing it are you kidding me. [’i have to sleep with the duke’] You do not have to sleep with the fuCKING DUKE.

Maddox, shhh. Listen to the movie.

You want me to listen to this buLL?

Pay attention~.

[So, he does, though huffy, and now it’s the other scene to make me and Lucy rip hearts out of our chests, and Christian is singing, and now there are loving glances exchanged across rehearsal.]

I’m getting whiplash. Oh my God.

I told you to pay attention~.

[The song is being sung, and Lucy’s giving it her full attention, and Maddox seems to be doing the same thing. He actually looks... interested now? Like, he’s fully enraptured in these lyrics, and what’s going on on the screen, and like he’s deep in thought, and his eyes are SET ON THE SCREEN.

Then Nini has to come in and RUIN THE WHOLE THING. ‘penniless writer, OH I MEAN SITAR PLAYER HUHUHUH’. Maddox sits up.]

THAT. BITCH.

[Full-on laugh from Lucy now as the number ends,  and The Duke starts in on his whole bit, and then Christian says the thing. ‘shE DOESN’T LOVE U’.]

FUCKING RIGHT. TELL HIS ASS. [the duke is going onnnn.] This guy is a dick head. Why do you  liKE THIS MOVIE, LUCY?

I told you. It’s a great movie, Maddox.

It’s a fucking infuriating movie is what it is. I swear to Christ, if the mole rat so much as gets to touch her...

[He trails off, shaking his head. Again, Lucy smiles, because she knows that this all means he’s feeling something about the story. (Even if he does keep interrupting her favorite movie.) So guess what scene it’s time for now??? You know the one. 

IT BEGINS, and for a second time, Lucy can feel Maddox tense up beside her. So, she looks up as the Argentinean begins to sing ‘rOOOOXANNE’, and she had never seen him look that MAD in all the time she’d known him. Like, teeth and fists clenched, and all that good stuff. She’s full-on worried about whether or not he’s gonna burst a blood vessel, or something. Because, I’m telling you. The boy is pissed. 

And as Christian starts to sing, and there are flashes to Satine and the Duke, a cushion is thrown at the TV.]

FUCK THIS STUPID FUCKING MOVIE. 

Maddox, it’s fine. I promise. [She pats his shoulder.]

It’s not even. [And he pulls her back closer into his side.]

It is. [Maybe she realizes he’s projecting onto this a little bit. Just maybe.]

[So, you know what goes on here, and Maddox is wincing, and he doesn’t want to look as it kEEPS GOING, and internally he probably looks a lot like Christian does towards the end of this number.]

OH MY GOD. IS IT EVER GONNA END?? I CAN’T LOOK AT IT ANYMORE.

It’s almost over.

[SO THANKS, IT’S OVER. Maddox slumps, because he’s been tense that whole time.] Oh thank Christ, he knocked him out. [Breath of relief, and Lucy leans on his shoulder, because yup that totally wasn’t taxing on his emotions at all.] Have I mentioned how fucking stupid this movie is?

A couple of times, yeah.

Just checking.

[Next scene, there is a Maddox looking probably more invested than he has through the whole movie, and Lucy is also able to pay attention for the first time in a few minutes, but she could hear him mumbling things like ‘oh what the fuck even is gonna happen now?’ and ‘yeah, running away. bet that’s gonna work’. And once the Duke has given the threat about Christian, there is an outburst of ‘THIS ASSHOLE’, but he immediately settles back down.

Off to Harry telling Satine all of the good stuff, like ‘someone gon get killed’ and ‘oh boy you’re dying’, and then ‘hurt him to save him’, and all that.]

Hurt him to save him? This is buLLSHIT. Let him make his owN FUCKING CHOICE? Harold is a fucKING SHIT.

[Lucy can’t find it in her to answer, because, well, yeah-- he’s not wrong, but oh WELL, just let the poor boy do his ranting and raving.]

Lucy. She’s not doing this shit. She’s not-- this is fucking dumb. 

I know. She just doesn’t think she has another choice.

She should’ve just let it be his choice.

She loves him. She doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Hmph.

[He turns back to the movie, and Christian makes his plans to go on back to the good ol’ MR.]

GET HER, YOU IDIOT. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

[Fun show time, and all that, and more grumbles and grimaces from Maddox. Another cushion is thrown at the screen when the Duke, from the audience, insists ‘she’s mine’, and Lucy moves any other thing around Maddox away from him so he can’t throw anything else. 

Christian is with Satine now, ‘pay his bill’, and all that, and Maddox throws his hands up.]

Jesus, what a fucking MORON. [All that fun continues.] I’m gonna scream. I’m gonna.

Shhhh.

[So Christian and Satine are revealed on the stage, and there’s the ‘paid my whore’ bit.]

This is. so. stupid. 

[And on goes Christian, and the show must go on, eh? Satine starts singing~.]

It’s the fucking song. [His head goes into his hands again.]

[So that beauty happens, and we have an enraptured Maddox and Lucy again, but then the gun is getting flung everywhere, and Maddox is on edge again.]

Oh, no they’re not. That’s not gonna happen. Lucy. [He looks at her, she avoids looking at him, since she knOWS what happens.] Nope. It’s not. [The duke now has the gun, stalking up upon the the stage.] I’m gonna throw something again. [And then Zidler punches him, yup.]

Harry is gOOD FOR SOMETHING. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.

[The curtain falls, and Maddox is in a false sense of security here. And then the bad thing happens.]

Hold on SHIT.

[Lucy has already started crying, since she knows what’s coming, so she’s not talking to Maddox, and it’s like she’s almost forgotten she was with anyone else. She’s just sobbing to herself, because DAMN THIS MOVIE, i’m crying just writing about it. I hate. 

So, there it ends with ‘the grEEEatest thing u’ll eeeeever learn is jUST to love and be loOOVed in reee turrnnnn. And Lucy’s a heap, but brought back to earth by the credits rolling, and by sniffing sounds beside her. She looks over to her boy, and does she see a tear being wiped. You betcha.]

Are you... Maddox, are you crying?

[Like he’s guilty, because he is. He reaches up to get any trace of dumb tears off his face.] NO. No, that was-- I’m not crying. It was just stupid. It was so stupid. I hated it. 

No, you are crying. Ohhhh. [She’s teasing him, tbh.]

Fuck. OFF. That was the worst thing I’ve ever fucking seen.

It’s alright, sweetie~.

It’s fucking not. That was-- traumatizing. I never want to see that again.

It’s just a movie, Maddox~. 

Give me just, like, five fucking minutes to process what I just saw, okay? [His head is in his hands AGAIN.]

Ooookay~.

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The Best Italian Eco Adventures in Valle di Cembra, Trentino

Have you ever heard of Valle di Cembra in northern Italy?

If you say no, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Valle di Cembra is a beautiful valley in the Italian province of Trentino which has plenty to offer a typical tourist – but it’s not particularly well known. It’s because places like Trentino find it a bit difficult to compete for attention when there’s such a huge focus on Italy’s ‘must-see’ destinations.

For the last few years, over-tourism has hit Italy hard. There are the massive influxes of art-and-architecture-hungry visitors to Florence, Rome, and Venice; the photo-obsessed selfie-stick-wavers in Pisa and Cinque Terre; even the shoulder-to-shoulder sunbathers in Positano, Sardinia and Lake Garda.

Local governments are trying desperately to cope with the crowds, as there’s a very real risk that these destinations will be irreparably damaged: a combination of rising house prices, waste disposal issues, harm to local wildlife, heightened local tensions, and in the case of Venice, there’s a literal danger of it sinking out of sight.

But the bizarre irony is that tourism begets tourism. Outside of the top three Italian cities, most other ‘must-visit’ locations in Italy are so popular purely because they’ve already been publicised as ‘the place to be’. So what’s to say that a new part of Italy can’t be discovered by international tourism?

Enter, Trentino – the Italian province you never knew you had to visit!

If there’s one thing which unites all travel bloggers, it’s that we love a ‘hidden gem’ of a destination (although we try to avoid that cliched term!). So when Traverse announced their annual blogging conference would be held in Trentino’s capital city of Trento, I didn’t hesitate to book my ticket.

After a week spent with my blogging friends at the conference, we split into a dozen different groups and headed out into various parts of Trentino province. The reason? To explore all the unknown parts of Trentino and inspire future tourists to travel in this part of Italy.

For two days, our little group drove up and down the winding switchback roads which rise up from the Cembra valley floor. The higher we went, the lower the temperature dropped – but the more stunning the scenery grew.

The land on either side of Valle di Cembra is steep and mountainous, and the land rolls so much that most machinery has to be used by hand. As Valle di Cembra is a region particularly famed for its vineyards, it’s easy to imagine that the farmers who live and work here might find the necessity of manual labour to be frustrating – but it’s actually the opposite.

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Discovering the surreal Segonzano Pyramids

Our first stop in Valle di Cembra was at one of Trentino’s most popular sites: the Segonzano Pyramids. These natural towers of earth are situated in a forest halfway up the Cembra valley close to Segonzano village and are a geological phenomenon, created by the erosion of loose earth and pebbles over hundreds of years.

Some of the pyramids reach a height of 40 metres, and all have flat stones on top – which explains the local name of ‘omeni’ (literally, ‘homunculi’ or ‘Little Men’, because of their resemblance to a particular male part!).

Although the Segonzano pyramids are the main attraction here, our lovely guide Paolo was keen for us to get a true sense of this serene spot in the valley. He instructed us to put our cameras away (a tough task for a group of bloggers!), leading us down wooden walkways and threading our way through the trees.

Paolo had a keen eye for detail, and every few moments we’d stop to see chestnuts, blackberries, acacia and elderflower blossoms.

When the birds began to sing from the treetops above us, he craned his neck backwards and turned his head to try and identify what he could hear: the sound of a cardinal, or perhaps a chaffinch.

And while he told us the history of the ‘piramidi di segonzano’, Paolo was stringing wild strawberries onto thin stems of grass; something his grandfather used to do.

Herding cows with a local dairy farmer at Agritur Le Mandre

The Le Mandre farm sits high above the valley in Bedollo village. It’s a business which has grown over three generations: Laura tells us that her grandfather used to keep cows up here for decades, which led to her father looking out at the panorama one day and thinking, “I want to build my own farm…” He didn’t have any money and people told him nobody would come to buy cheese from Bedollo – but he persisted.

Today, Laura operates a dairy and agriturismo, and thanks to the farm’s twenty five Alpine Grey cows, they produce and sell milk, a variety of cheeses, locally made ice cream and frozen yoghurt.

But the real star of the show at Le Mandre was Marco the farmer. He appeared out of nowhere as we were touring the farm, dressed in a cowboy hat and denim cut-off shorts and accompanied by an adorable dog named Nubia.

He asked us if we’d like to go and meet some of Le Mandre’s cows and help to herd them – and once he heard our resounding, “YES PLEASE!!” we headed off towards the fields.

The Alpine Greys were chilling in a field just outside the village, contentedly munching on the grass. When they saw us they edged closer, keen to see what food we had to offer – which, sadly, was none.

With little to no training in the art of cow herding, we followed Marco’s example as best we could (and perhaps somewhat exaggeratedly): waving our arms, making various clicking noises and generally trying to make the placid animals move back up the hill towards the farm and away from their incredibly picturesque grazing spot.

Back at the farm, Marco presented us with two heart-shaped cheese boards. As he talked us through the flavours of each sample, I looked around at the heart decorations everywhere: the lace curtains hanging from the windows, the table cloth decorations. Even the fences outside featured little wooden cut-outs of hearts, sheep and cows.

We asked Marco the farmer if he was responsible for the hearts. “Oh, no, it’s all my son,” he said, laughing as he shook his head.

Learning Durer’s artistic history at Castello di Segonzano

Lower down in the valley, we walked through the vineyards towards Segonzano Castle, a thirteenth century medieval fortress built on a cliff.

Today, the castle is mainly in ruins – there’s little more than a singular wall and the remnants of the castle’s prison left standing – but it’s still a fascinating insight into how the area used to look. And Castello di Segonzano is also famous in the art world, thanks to a celebrity visitor a few centuries ago.

Back in 1494, the German artist Albrecht Dürer was journeying from Innsbruck to Venice when the flooded Adige river forced him to divert onto a mountain path. When he arrived at the Cembra Valley he painted a dozen watercolours of the surrounding landscapes of Trentino Aldo Adige – and two of them feature Segonzano castle.

There’s no written record of Durer visiting the area, but thanks to this series of paintings, it’s possible to trace his journey through images alone.

In homage to Durer, we spent a happy few hours attempting to channel our own inner artist and painting watercolours within the crumbling castle walls.

Despite my lack of artistic skill it was a lovely way to spend an afternoon – until a violent wind kicked in and forced us to abandon the castle altogether.

Drinking local organic wine at Cantina dei Baroni

Still buffeted by the overpowering winds, we arrived at Cantina dei Baroni, a family-run vineyard and wine producer close to Segonzano castle.

We sat in a shaded courtyard at a table filled with platters of cured meats and cheeses while the owner (another Paolo!) told us how the Baroni winery’s history is firmly entwined with that of the area – and also with the artist Durer.

In 1936, Paolo’s grandfather was walking by the Avisio river and decided to take a break, sitting on the grass. When he looked up towards Segonzano castle he realised he was in the exact spot that Durer must have painted from, because his view matched the artist’s famous watercolour exactly!

Until that point, nobody had been able to confirm the identity of the castle in Durer’s painting – but thanks to Paolo’s grandfather, Trentino was able to officially recognise the location as a living part of artistic history.

I realised the sudden winds we’d felt at the Segonzano Castle had completely disappeared, and when I mentioned this to Paolo he explained that this area has its very own microclimate. Every afternoon there’s a strong wind called Ora del Garda which blows northwards from Lake Garda, which can be felt all across the Trentino region.

In Valle di Cembra this means overcast skies and the occasional rain shower, but it always disappears after an hour or so and reverts back to sunshine again. This daily shifting of weather creates a perfect environment for the grapes, and contributes to the delicious flavour of the wines produced at Cantina dei Baroni!

Napping with the bees at BeeWellness Contadino

Our final stop was the most fascinating: the family-run business of Gocce d’Oro, which offers ‘a multi-sensory journey into the world of bees’.

Ever since their great-grandfather Peter began to keep bees in 1850, the Andreatti family have made bees their business. Today they look after 250 hives and also cultivate a number of aromatic plants and herbs, which allows them to create soaps, lotions, candles, teas and sweets using honey, beeswax and natural ingredients like chamomile, calendula, echinacea and thyme.

But the real draw is their bee wellness treatment, which takes place in a picturesque little hut a ten minute walk away from Gocce d’Oro.

Inside the hut are four beds made from locally sourced mountain hay. Guests are invited to lie down, close their eyes, and listen to the sound of the bees happily buzzing in and out of the ten hives attached to the outside of the hut.

The ‘therapy’ aspect comes from the low rumble-buzz of the bees: the Andreatti family claim the bees’ particular frequency relaxes your muscles and provides a serenely calm environment.

Over-tourism versus ‘hidden gems’: which is best?

After spending two days exploring Trentino’s Valle di Cembra, it was clear that this area has such a strong passion for the natural world – and it’s a passion which has been passed down through the generations.

The community who live here work the land with their hands, so they’re more in touch with where they come from. And thanks to the calm, relaxed attitude which pervades the valley, Valle di Cembra is a world away from the heaving crowds and constant noise of Italy’s more visited areas; instead, it’s a place where local farmers offer you a bowlful of freshly picked wild strawberries.

I can guarantee that’s never happened to me on the streets of Rome or Paris or London!

As over-tourism becomes more of a pertinent issue, perhaps it’s time to focus on how we can all combat the problem by eschewing the world’s iconic destinations in favour of the unknown instead.

After all, those hidden gems do taste a lot sweeter.

Would you visit Valle di Cembra now? What non-touristy places have you visited recently?

Pin this article if you enjoyed it!

Disclaimer: I was kindly hosted on this trip by the folks at Visit Trentino and Visit Pine Cembra.

Read more:

– A weekend guide to visiting Arezzo, Italy

– Eco-friendly gifts for the traveller in your life

– Fishing for plastic in London’s canals

– Rural village life in the rice terraces of Bali

The post The Best Italian Eco Adventures in Valle di Cembra, Trentino appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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All About Septic Tanks

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They include an underground septic tank in diverse shapes and dimensions, which connects to a secondary land treatment system, usually a property drainage system in the shape of a soakaway or drainfield, or a mound soakaway. septic certification inland empire How a Septic Tank functions |} Raw Sewage and waste water from baths, kitchens, etc.. discharges to the tank, where the solids are separated from the liquid waste. Faeces and food scraps sink to the bottom of the tank and form a sludge layer. Anerobic germs that are natural colonisers in the tank"digest" this sludge up to 70%. The dirty septic water flows from the tank to a soakaway or drainfield. Baffles or'T' pipes from the tank hold back the floating crust and stop it from going into the outlet of the tank. In order that the sludge and crust layers do not become too heavy, septic tanks must be emptied yearly. This also prevents a greater and greater concentration of suspended solids washing out to the soakaway. Solids can block the air spaces in the soil drainage system, developing a drainage problem and the septic tank effluent will not have the ability to soak away or be treated by the pure soil bacteria. Traditional Septic tanks comprise of 2 rectangular chambers: the first person being 2/3 of the whole and the second 1/3, usually constructed in brick or concrete. Strict design principles are in place and septic tanks have to be designed in accordance with BS 6297 1983. This first stage chamber is generally two times as long as it is broad. The pipe in the first chamber into the second chamber consists of an'H' pipe and the bottom of the pipe is a minute. Of 300mm (12") below TWL in the first room and 450mm (18") below top water level (TWL) as it passes the second chamber.This second stage chamber is usually square. The outlet pipe in the second chamber of the tank also consists of a'T' pipe using the base of the pipe 300mm (12") below TWL. Vent pipes needs to be installed in the first and Strong covers must always be put completely within a septic tank to prevent children / animals falling into the tank. There are many instances of thcovers collapsing and lots of people have been killed as a result. These Days, septic tanks Are made in GRP and polyethylene which commonly are spherical in shape with a narrow shaft in the top to a manhole ground level. These don't create exactly the identical quality of space as two chamber tanks and can't be placed facing many conversion components. Care should be taken to Make sure that problems won't occur due to the tank rising out of the ground, when it is emptied in large water table websites. It is always a good idea to put in the tank using a concrete surround. Septic Tank effluent still comprises about 70 percent of the pollutants in the original sewage and requires further treatment from the soakaway to prevent a pollution issue. Soakaways and Septic Drainfields The Septic Tank only provides the initial area of the sewage treatment process. The soakaway is that the underground soil treatment system that utilizes aerobic bacteria found naturally in the ground to further treat the effluent. The soil type has to be acceptable for a soakaway to work properly. Percolation tests are required to determine if a septic tank soakaway is appropriate. If the soil is clay, then it is not suitable for a soakaway and a drainage issue is inevitable. In case you have this problem then a sewage treatment plant would be the answer since they do not need a soakaway. The soakaway includes a series of trenches Containing perforated pipe laid on and surrounded by stone, or an absorption bed, or even a soakaway mound, all which are connected to the septic tank outlet by a pipe. In all scenarios the soakaway has to be a minimum of 1.2 metres above the water table or bedrock in any way times. They need to also be a minimum of 200 mm. Below ground level to avoid septic effluent breaking into the surface. The pipes must be placed in a gradient of no more than 1:200 at a drainfield so the wastewater does not run to the end of the pipe, but is spread evenly. The pipe cannot be the corrugated tubing form as used in land drains because this is not allowed, but must be the proper solid soakaway drainage pipe The Contaminants, pathogens, nutrients, and organic matter in the effluent are spread into the gravel where they are digested by aerobic bacteria. On a sloping site, the effluent may flow to a series Of drop boxes or manholes with a different outlet to the next pipeline set at a lower degree. Absorption beds are useful where space is restricted, however they should just be used as another option. Sewage Drainage Mounds A Therapy mound is a increased soakaway system. Aggregates are utilized to raise the soakaway so it is at least 1200mm (4'-0") above the seasonal high water table or bedrock. The mound system has to be constructed carefully, taking into account the topography of the website, the volume of septic tank effluent to be treated along with the porosity of the topsoil to prevent collapse of the machine and boggy areas around the bottom of the mound. The design cannot be guessed and have to be done by a trained professional, using evaluation results and calculations. I've observed poorly designed mounds burst a hole through the side since they have been too little for the job. Effluent Is piped to a winding station tank, where it is pumped in batches into the mound pipe-work. Septic mounds can look very appealing and can form a part of their landscaping of a garden. You're not allowed to plant shrubs on top of these, but they can be implanted around their base. Septic Tank Soakaway Pits In The past, several septic tank systems used soakaway pits, although these pits are no longer acceptable under modern building regulations. They consisted of a massive hole in the ground, open at the base, either blocked round with gaps between the blocks to allow seepage of the effluent into the ground, or holes full of stones. A few soakaway pits were made of large concrete rings with gaps between the rings and the septic tank effluent was piped into them. They were constantly coated, usually with a large concrete slab, but they were frequently a failure, as no calculations have been undertaken to find out the porosity of the surrounding soil and they soon were filled with septic effluent. The drains then fill between the pit and the tank, which backs-up the entire septic system. Website Conditions and Setup Most Websites in the united kingdom aren't acceptable for septic tank systems. Either the soil contains too much clay or is overly porous, or the chilly water table or bedrock is too near the surface. If the soil is clay, then it won't soak the septic effluent away and if it's too coarse it will not keep the effluent long for therapy. You could consider a non-electric sewage treatment plant rather. From time to time, it is possible to accommodate a septic system to match a basically unsuitable site, but this requires careful preparation and layout by a specialist. As a general rule, if the website has insufficient soil depth, or the wrong type of dirt, it isn't suitable for a septic system. Always contact your Building Inspector before deciding on a septic system. The size of a septic system System, both the tank and the soakaway region, is dependent on the number of bedrooms in the home and porosity of the soakaway soil. A septic system cannot work if it's overloaded, so always bear in mind any programs you may have for extending the house before you decide on the size of the septic system. Increasing the dimensions later results in a ruined garden. Finally, always check with the Environment Agency And you neighborhood Building Control before deciding on a septic system. They Will have a very good idea as to whether it is likely to work on your Area and could help save you thousands of pounds in replacing an erroneous Septic installation.

Today is January 8th, and this is my first official post of the year 2018! NOTE: Because obviously that incidental late-night half-asleep New Year post did NOT count LOL

I'm going to kick-off the year with something Kyuranger related, but it's not about that explosive new episode that hit broadcast yesterday (in case you missed the note, there was no episode on December 31st). Something special instead: the Summer 2017 Movie "Kyuranger the Movie: Geth Indaver no Gyakushuu"! Here goes...

- Since a Super Sentai solo movie is usually double-billed with its Kamen Rider counterpart, the duration gets to be rather short. Particularly when compared to a season's Returns V-Cinema or Versus Movie. The same thing is happening to Kyuranger, as this August 5th, 2017 movie is clocked at only around 33:45 minutes (logo intro and the 01:35 ending dance included) having to share its theatrical running time with "Kamen Rider Ex-Aid the Movie: True Ending" (as seen on the trailer above). That is the reason why the chain of events have to immediately start with a bang... - By bang, that's literally! The intro showcases a galactic (and uncommonly hectic) spaceship battle between Kyuranger's Voyagers and a horde of Jark Matter fleet around the deadly Geth Star (a very obvious nod to a weapon with similar name in "Star Wars"). And more importantly, Commander Xiao Long Bao gets shot to a seeming demise by the story's major antagonist Geth Indaver (played by Ryou Tamura), who might or might not be homage to a famous Mandalorian. Don't look for any explanation on how or why Xiao is even aboard the planet-sized battleship, this movie demands us to just follow along. All we are privilege to know is that Geth Indaver wants to collide the Geth Star and Earth, just to obtain the Destroyer God Kerberos. - I believe the intro is meant to be a 'the plot thickens' twist right away. Unfortunately, in a way it feels nothing more than a mere petty ruse to give a sense of purpose to the team. If not to move forward the plot, of course. LOL. No really, when everyone in the ORION is looking sad and depressed prematurely coping the loss of Xiao, I'm rolling my eyes instead. Come on, does anyone actually believe this is happening for real? Remember the sci-fi death rulebook, if there's no corpse then death remains a huge question mark. Especially when we know for sure that Xiao is still safe and sound at least until episode 44 *grins*. NOTE: Seeing this through home video doesn't help either. However, the sequence might have been 'shocking' and worked differently had I seen it in the Summer as it was intended to. So I guess there's that. - Lucky gets a premature rousing (or intended to be one, at least) speech that they need to continue what Xiao would have wanted: not give up and try their best to save Earth. Thankfully, Raptor had conveniently able to tap on Xiao's conversation with Geth, and discovered Geth's ambitious goal. Stinger is well-informed about the myth surrounding his objective. Kerberos is a destroyer of planet that consists of three components/heads: Dober, Husky, and Bull. All of them are actual varieties of dogs, in case you're wondering. - Lucky realizes one easy logic: since Kerberos has the ability to destroy a planet, it will be able to strike down Geth Star as well. That means the Rebellion only needs to revive and take over Kerberos to basically save Earth. To do so, they require three sealed Kerberos Stones from the uncharted territories of Cerberus System. These items have to be acquired before Geth Star reaches Earth, which is only 72 hours away. Wait a sec... if the keys to summon Kerberos can be found in ANOTHER star system, what's the purpose of Geth Indaver's globe-shattering assault on Earth then? Hmmm... Trivia: Similar to Argo Navis, Cerberus is not part of the 88 Modern Constellation System. According to Wikipedia, Cerberus is a defunct or obsolete star system whose star members have since been included into the Constellation Herakles. Ironically, the creature used as a Constellation is NOT even the famous Three-headed Gatekeeper Dog of the Underworld. It's an entirely different three-headed SNAKE that the mythological hero defeated. I guess dogs sell better than snakes, huh? - Team sans Raptor nor any of the newer members splits up into three, and heads toward different locations. Lucky and Garu arrive on Planet Husky, and need to defeat one of Geth's men by the name Kaaru Indaver in a motorcycle racing match. Lucky utilizes the #62 Auriga Kyu Globe, and... turns Garu into one furry motorcycle. LOL. They equip Antlia Kyu Globe's power to outspeed Kaaru Indaver and secure the first red-colored Kerberos Stone. - Stinger, Champ, and Hammy arrive on the snowy Planet Bull, only to discover that it's a secret... Jark Matter MMA Tournament Stadium. Hey, I thought this Star System is supposed to be a dangerous place? Oh well, Taurus Black has to wrestle his way against gorrilla-esque Oumo Indaver to obtain the blue-colored Kerberos Stone. I guess this serves as a quick fan-service to those who has been eager to see Champ in his original occupation prior to becoming a Kyuranger. Naturally the Jark Matter cheats, so Scorpius Orange and Chamaeleon Green slashes into the ring (the latter uses Cancer Kyu Globe to tear the wires away) and join the fight. Things become a bit messy that Oumo Indaver gets the chance to run off with the prize. - Spada and the BN-Thieves land on Planet Dober and easily discover the yellow-colored Kerberos Stone in an unknown ruins. But there's a surprise welcoming party who snatches away the treasure right away: Geth Indaver himself! We learn that he's a rather... BAFFLING antagonist who conveniently and casually shares his true humanoid identity. No kidding, Geth is a former Rebellion soldier and old comrade of Xiao by the name of Hoi-pyon... I mean Hoi Korou. He was exiled due to his dark obsession towards Kerberos. - Geth Indaver demands the Husky Stone to be handed to him, naming Earth as the rendesvouz place. If you're wondering why he doesn't choose a much safer place, then you're not alone. Geth and his men are risking their own life to get crushed by their own Geth Star, right? *sigh*. With only one hour away from collision, the Kyurangers decide to just go all out and fight their way to protect the planet. - Look who decides to show up during the fight! Ursa Minor SkyBlue who immediately deploys his Ursa Major Kyu Globe to gain the upper hand. Where have you been throughout the first arc, Kotarou? And there are more surprises. Commander Xiao saves the day! Cue failed-dramatic moment. Well, duh?! Did anyone really think he's actually dead? Nope, because apparently another member encountered Xiao drifting in space just in time to rescue him. WHO? Duh? It's Tsurugi, of course! Seriously, everyone seems to have forgotten about him and Kotarou to the point that it genuinely annoys me... *grumble* - Tsurugi also plays a part to deal with the next threat: Keroberos, which has been revived by Geth Indaver. He instructs Leo Red to use the Herakles Kyu Globe (the movie's official promotional item) and... well, reenacting the myth by practically 'taming down' Keroberos. The act officially turns the mythical beast into... the spring-green-colored Cerberus Voyager and awakening its accompaniment #111 Cerberus Kyu Globe. He then utilizes the Kyu Globe to form the annual movie-only mecha Kerberios. NOTE: Cerberus Kyu Globe goes by the number 111. What's the point? Well... it's unconfirmed and pure speculation until now, but 111 can be read as 'ONE ONE ONE' or 'WAN WAN WAN' in Japanese spelling. Guess what the latter means? 'WOOF WOOF WOOF'. That's onomatopoeic of barking, in case you still don't get it. LOL. Kyuranger sure loves its puns. - As Gigant Phoenix deals with giant-sized Oumo Indaver, Draco Commander settles his feud once and for all with Geth Indaver. All the while, Kerberios tries desperately to take down Geth Star. Yep, it's a triple-sized parallel battle! Thanks to Garu's suggestion (clearly based on personal experience) and undoubtedly sheer luck, Leo Red uses Shining Kyu Globe's Lunar Mode to turn the mecha into gargantuan size. What for? To block the Geth Star from obliterating Earth. - Does it work? Well duh, should we even expect otherwise? It even rather surrealistically transform Earth into a giant Earth Kyu Globe that pushes the deadly weapon away. All enemies are destroyed, which means Earth has been saved and its civillian can freely... hug it out. As for the Kyurangers? They decide to release the Kerberos Stones to their original locations (what a waste of resource!) and... celebrate in a Japanese festival. You know, that fun yukata-filled Summer-only ending sequence (aired from episode 22 to episode 27) we've all known and loved!

Overall: So... that was, uhm, fine, I guess? To be honest, reviewing or giving personal impressions on Super Sentai Summer movies is generally a somewhat tricky affair for me. Aside from one or two notable exceptions (Abaranger's fan service spree, or Kyoryuger's genuinely thrilling big screen feature to name a few), most of them ventured in the realm of mediocrity to 'just okay' at best. Much of this was caused by the limited duration, the production staffs involved, and many other small things. In Kyuranger's case, it unfortunately fell on the underwhelm side despite the series' overwhelming success. This movie suffered through a very thin plot that ridiculously didn't quite make sense. I think even the most simpleton would easily wonder, why would Geth Indaver try to destroy Earth in the first place, when he's busy fighting INSIDE the planet? In general, the stakes felt poor despite the situation being of catastrophic scale. The plot was basically a rehash of TV series' repeated story pattern (collecting elements of a thingamajig), but condensed into one single run. That's why everything felt rushed! To put it worse, it didn't exude the usual fun aspects and charm of a broadcasted episode, because everything just felt strangely serious and surprisingly lacked a heart and soul. Even the almost full (just 11 members, minus Tsurugi) team transformation and roll call (which usually got flashier in movies) looked bland and... generic. The TV series has done better IMHO! Don't even get me started on that failed emotional angle with Xiao, or how Kotarou and Tsurugi were just sort of... 'there' only when the plot required them to. Similar to "Episode of Stinger" V-Cinema and its coupling web-series, the placement of this movie in the timeline/continuity is... a little difficult to pinpoint. Still, judging from what I saw, this likely took place after the clash of Reds has been cleared out (in episode 24), because Lucky and Tsurugi seemed to be in a good mood with one another. The ending sort of suggested that this was the team's final mission to liberate Earth, but I doubt it took place after the Time Travel arc. That's when they left to explore other Star Systems to search for Don Armage's whereabouts, right? Overall, it was still a watchable movie and had its fun moments too. But overall? It's definitely not among Kyuranger's best, plagued by obvious flaws there were just too distracting to ignore. This was just on par with the mediocre to good episodes, but still ranks better than "High School Wars". I actually expected better, but things don't always go along with what we want, do they? *sigh*. Here's hoping the upcoming (assuming both will be produced), Versus and/or Kyuranger Returns V-Cinema will make up for my disappointment... Next: Back to TV, to its 1st episode of 2018!

Overall Score: 7,5 out of 10

Visit THIS LINK to view a continuously updated listing of the Kyutama / Kyu Globes. Last Updated: December 29th, 2017 - Version 3.10. (WARNING: It might contain spoilers for future episodes)

Trailer used above is officially available through CINEMA NAVI Youtube Channel. "Uchu Sentai Kyuranger" is produced by TOEI, and airs every Sunday on TV-Asahi. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.

This Fall, we are counting down the 100 best tracks of the 2000s with a new article every Monday. To learn more about the project and why the 2000s were amazing for music, click here.

After what felt like forever, we finally made it to the end: this week, we present the top 10 positions of the countdown. To listen to every single track listed in our top 100, you can head to the Spotify playlist we created at the bottom of the page.

Navigation

Intro   100-91   90-81   80-71   70-61   60-51   50-41   40-31   30-21   20-11   10-1

10. The Strokes - Hard to Explain

True, it is a little easy and inaccurate to say that The Strokes single-handily saved rock music in 2001. But during the summer of that year, the new band felt like a breath of fresh air, no matter how much they smelled like cigarette. Hard to Explain sounds easier than it is with a metronome-like drum beat and an endless stream of downstrokes. The track keeps moving forwards and forwards until it reaches its climax two minutes in and, just like that, disappears completely. The band then reels it right back and goes for the ride a second time, as exciting as the first. It is the track that rightfully set the expectations rocket high for the band’s first album Is This It and it’s a miracle they managed to reach them.

9. Amy Winehouse - Rehab

If America wasn’t already sold to Amy Winehouse yet by the time Rehab was released, it took only about 30 seconds to get it all hooked. On the biggest single of her cruelly short career, Amy wastes no time belting out the chorus in the opening seconds, backed by soul band the Dap-Kings and immaculate production from Mark Ronson. Don’t get it twisted though; it truly is Amy’s presence at the center stage that infuses the song its magnetism, with her defiant and relentless personality, giving it enough character to live long after she’s gone. With Rehab, Amy Winehouse kicked the door wide open for women to sing their imperfections with sass and break from the picture perfect plastic mold.

8. Radiohead - Idioteque

Radiohead truly became immortals in the 2000s, thanks in no small part to key tracks like Idioteque. After all, only a rock band in full grace mode could ditch its guitars for 1970’s computer music samples and end up with such a compelling piece of music. Thom Yorke’s falsetto, which ranges from delicate to plain manic as the song progresses, clashes with the robotic and cold background provided by a highly compressed drum machine and a Paul Lansky chord progression. The result sounds both like a virtual nightmare Yorke tries to wake up from, and a real dream to IDM-trained ears.

7. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps

As punk as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were on their début album, no track they would ever release would reach the height of the tender ballad of Maps. Propelled by Nick Zinner’s rapid strum and secret weapon drummer Brian Chase’s thoughtful performance, the Fever To Tell highlight remains a love song for the ages. Meanwhile, Karen O’s feelings can’t help but burst out the iconic track, helped by its iconic “Wait, they don’t love you like I love you” line.

6. Grizzly Bear - Two Weeks

By the end of the decade, indie pop was still interested in bedroom aspirations, making delicate, intimate pieces of music. Grizzly Bear, however, was ready to make the most grandiose track they could with Two Weeks, and it sure feels like they reached both the moon and the stars. Starting with a bouncy piano motif and cartoonish whoa-ohs, Two Weeks builds upon a drum loop that would make Vampire Weekend jealous before crashing into a confetti convention in the chorus. The dizzying layers of synths and celestial backing vocals elevate the track to outer space for the band’s finest hour.

5. The Knife - Heartbeats

In the 2000s, few choruses felt as vital as the one The Knife cranked out on their synthpop masterpiece Heartbeats: “To call for hands from above to lean on/Wouldn’t be good enough/For Me, oh”. What is magical about the track, however, is the way Karin Dreijer Andersson sings. Channelling her inner Björk, she injects a duality of emotions in her delivery as she tiptoes between pure joy and pure nostalgia. Instead of “hands up above” though, she leans on a colourful yet robotic wall of synths and steel drums, one that is trying to rationalize her confused feelings. Heartbeats might not have been exactly a hit when it first came out, but such an ageless track can only win in notoriety through the years.

4. Arcade Fire - Rebellion (Lies)

With its first album Funerals, Arcade Fire launched nothing less than an indie revolution in the mid-2000s. This rings especially true with Rebellion (Lies). The cathartic single is a deep journey to the grandiose. The real tour-de-force here is how natural it sounds; how Win Butler and his friends manage to create such a resonating piece, such an emotionally heavy track without ever sounding fake, forced or cheesy. Instead, the band wears its feelings right on its sleeve with an attitude that would inspire thousands of alternative rock bands for generations to come. Sung from the point of view of a child, Rebellion (Lies) pleas for the listener to stop hiding underneath the covers and to be who they want to be and to dream outside of their bed, an advice that isn’t as naive as it sounds.

3. M.I.A. - Paper Planes

The Clash started as a punk band but quickly incorporated elements of funk, reggae, hip-hop and world music to its core. It is therefore fitting that an artist like rapper M.I.A., one who was born from DIY and punk ethos, would end up sampling a song of them. On Paper Planes, the Londonian celebrates globalization one cash register noise at a time. Migrants, refugees or stoners, there was something for everyone on this global track, even if the visa trouble that inspired the song come from M.I.A.’s very own personal experience. In a decade with so many male rappers using girls as props in their videos while literally calling themselves P.I.M.P. in the process, it is telling that the most essential rap single of the 2000s came from a woman.

2. The Rapture - House Of Jealous Lovers

If you can scream the title of this track and count to 8, you can already sing 90% of House Of Jealous Lovers. The Rapture forms here the tightest rock unit making the nastiest, sweatiest, slickest disco song possible, one that could make CBGB and Studio 54 burn simultaneously. The quintessential dance-punk number gets its power from a groovy bass for the ages, funky drumming, an incisive guitar sound, epileptic vibratos and a stupid amount of cowbell. In the 2000s, there was simply no other song that managed to channel such frenzy as effectively as House Of Jealous Lovers.

1. LCD Soundsystem - All My Friends

Growing old is scary as fuck, which is why our culture is so obsessed with staying young. Pop stars rarely survive long after they reach 30 years old, either because newer stars replace them, either because they literally die before they get old. James Murphy was, therefore, a bit of an oddity when he first came out of the New York scene with his début single Losing My Edge at 32 years old. Sure, his indie dance tales are a little too weird for him to truly become a star; he only got a number one album in the USA on his comeback album in 2017 on an especially slow chart week. But for a generation of well-informed music fans, he was the best-kept secret of the 2000s.

It also helped that, with LCD Soundsystem, Murphy wasn’t especially singing about being young. He preferred to sing about inviting an A-list electronic band to play in his basement, about death or about being the fat guy in a t-shirt doing all the singing. Losing my Edge, in fact, addressed this very situation, exposing a narrator who was starting to lag behind the cool kids, but who wanted to show he was still cooler because he “was there” when it started.

This all leads to All My Friends, without a doubt the greatest single track of the 2000s. Starting with a shivering piano riff, the song builds on as Murphy adds years to his odometer. All My Friends isn’t exactly a party track as much as it’s a song about trying to live the life of the party, about doing everything to get as much from our younger years, surviving the tomorrows and ruining our bodies just trying to fit in and live. Soon, the piano riff becomes drilling, it feels more and more urgent. The rapid-fire hi-hats open more and more often. The guitars and the synths are more and more present, leading to a mid-thirties James Murphy pleading to “see all my friends tonight”. As LCD Soundsystem reformed itself in 2016 after a five-year hiatus, Murphy’s words bear more and more weight, with the idea that each stupid decision, each thrill could be the last. All My Friends is more than a song about the midlife crisis: it touches themes of nostalgia, friendship, growing old and trying to make it work out in the end. And just like a lifestyle of partying, the song never puts the breaks on, drifting at 140 beats per minute before crashing seven minutes and a half later. 

In the end, All My Friends is scary. It’s frenetic, it’s wise, but it’s also so brutally honest in its statement and subject matter that it ends up intimidating. In a decade that saw the increase of the influence of the internet, of social media, of phones and of everything else that would make our parents cringe, All My Friends arcs back to the universal idea that you are probably missing out, that you are missing your friends more than you think, that your life is getting empty and that your youth is slipping away. Goddammit, do something with it before it’s too late. Check the charts, figure it out and go out there. 

(Note that Jay-Z’s 99 Problems and Primal Scream’s Kill All Hippies are not available on Spotify)

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